


By Blood and Law

by maggyjenkins



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Azor Ahai, Crownlands - Freeform, Dorne, Dragons, Drogon - Freeform, Essos, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falcons, Gendrya - Freeform, Lions, New Gods, North, Old Gods, Riverlands, Riverrun, Stormlands - Freeform, Storms End, Sunspear, The Dreadfort, The Prince That Was Promised, The Reach - Freeform, The Red Keep, Tigers, Valar Morghulis, Volantis, Westeros, Winterfell, angsty at certain points, direwolves, evenfall hall, familial bonds is an important theme, iron islands, mentions/slightly graphic depictions of rape, post fluffy happy ending, rhaegal - Freeform, seven kingdoms, stags, the vale, trout, valar doheris, viserion - Freeform, westerlands - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 61,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggyjenkins/pseuds/maggyjenkins
Summary: Nineteen years after the defeat of the white walkers, the Stark siblings reunite for a tourney that will make history. But when the past comes back to haunt them, will history begin to repeat itself?(Sequel to The Prayer Called Arya)





	1. Cat/Arya/Sansa/Lyanna

**Author's Note:**

> Arya Baratheon - 36  
> Gendry Baratheon - 41  
> \- Jon Baratheon (19)  
> \- Ryle Baratheon (17)  
> \- Tallond Baratheon (15)  
> \- Lyanna Baratheon (14)  
> Sansa Maegyr - 38  
> Ambrose Maegyr - 39  
> \- Catelyn Bolton (19)  
> \- Eddard Maegyr (18)  
> \- Talisa Maegyr (17)  
> \- Celyna Maegyr (14)  
> \- Robb Maegyr (11)  
> \- Rickon Maegyr (11)  
> \- Verrum Maegyr (7)  
> \- Miryla Maegyr (5)  
> Jon Targaryen - 41  
> Daenerys Targaryen - 39  
> \- Rhaegar Targaryen (16)  
> Calysta Maegyr - 23  
> Bran Stark - 35  
> Meera Stark - 35  
> \- Jyana Stark (15)  
> \- Jojen Stark (12)  
> Brienne of Tarth - 50  
> Jaime Lannister - 59  
> \- Elaina Lannister (18)  
> \- Sansa Lannister (16)  
> \- Taryn Lannister (12)  
> Edmure Tully - 54  
> Roslin Tully - 43  
> \- Hoster Tully (24)  
> \- Simon Tully (19)  
> \- Athena Tully (17)  
> \- Rhea Tully (14)  
> \- Evelyn Tully (12)  
> \- Isaac Tully (8)  
> Robin Arryn - 34  
> Arella Royce - 33  
> \- Vince Arryn (17)  
> \- Lysa Arryn (15)  
> \- Viviane Arryn (11)  
> Tyene Martell (33)  
> Bronn of the Blackwater (58)  
> \- Titus Martell (17)  
> \- Tarbos Martell (16)  
> \- Vethara Martell (15)  
> \- Aliandra Martell (10)

_CAT_

Catelyn Bolton was the spitting image of her mother. Everyone always told her growing up, as if she didn't know it already. She never knew the face of her father by blood, but she knew her mother's face like the back of her hand. Everything about herself was from her mother. She didn't know anything of her blood father other than his family name was Bolton, he and mother were married, he was lord of a castle in Westeros called the Dreadfort which she would soon inherit, and that he was killed while mother was pregnant with her.

Cat lived in castle Maegyr, a palace within the black walls of Volantis. She lived with her mother, her stepfather, her brother Ned, her sister Talisa, her sister Celyna, her brother Robb, her brother Rickon, her brother Verrum, and her sister Miryla. Of course, Ned always made sure to remind her that they were only _half_ siblings, but mother always contradicted. _You may be half siblings in name and in blood, but you are brother and sister in practice._

The orange haired Bolton was curled up on her bed, reading a book of Valyrian poems when her second youngest sister, Celyna, poked her head through the door.

"Cat? Mother wants to speak with you." She nodded her head as she put down her book and got up from her bed.

" _Kirimvose_ , Lyna." (Thank you, Lyna). She walked through the marble halls of her home, through the water gardens where her twin brothers, Robb and Rickon, were splashing around with father, and through the flower gardens until she reached her mother's favorite spot: The godswood. Her mother was kneeling before the great Banyan tree, her orange hair braided down her back with little pink blossoms woven in. Sansa Maegyr turned to face her first born daughter, and smiled softly before standing.

"Good morning my darling." Cat hugged her mother before sitting next to her on the swinging wicker bench.

"Good morning Mother. Lyna said that you wanted to speak with me?" Sansa nodded her head and took a deep breath.

"Yes. I want to talk to you about something concerning your future." She paused before continuing. "A raven came in from Storm's End last night. There's going to be a tournament there, and we were all invited. Of course, not all of us will be able to go. I've discussed this with your father at length, and we decided that I will be going with yourself, Ned, Talisa, and Lyna." Sansa always referred to Ambrose as Cat's father, as he had taken on the role from the moment she was born.

"What does that have to do with my future?" Sansa wrung her hands and took another deep breath.

"You're nineteen now, my darling. You are heir to the Dreadfort and house Manderly won't run that castle forever. You'll need to marry soon and..." She bit her bottom lip to stop tears from flowing. "You'll need to leave Castle Maegyr to live there. I don't want you to go, my darling, please understand that. But you can't live here forever." Cat knew that the day would come when she would become betrothed to a lord or prince and would live with them in Westeros. That day just happened to be approaching faster than she would have liked.

"I understand, mother. I'm not going to pretend that I won't miss castle Maegyr, and this will always be my home, but I always knew that one day I would have to leave." Sansa smiled gratefully at her daughter.

"Thank you for understanding, my darling." Sansa stood and offered her hand to her daughter who used it to help her stand.

"When do we leave for Storm's End?" Cat inquired as they began walking through the flower gardens. Sansa inhaled sharply.

"We leave tomorrow at noon. So, you should start packing bags."

_ONE MONTH LATER_

_ARYA_

It had been five years since she had seen Sansa. The last time the Stark sisters had been together was when Arya and her family had travelled to Volantis to meet the newest Maegyr, little Miryla. It had been a brief visit, lasting only a week, but Arya had relished in every second that she was able to be with her siblings and cousin once more. She was waiting on the docks where the ship from Volantis was due to arrive. She was wearing a grey cotton dress with tight fitted, quarter length sleeves, a snug waist, a straight neckline, and a loose skirt that stopped before her ankles. She loved that dress as it was one that Sansa had made her for her twenty fifth nameday. It had the direwolf sigil sewn into the ends of the sleeves, a reminder of her Northern roots.

"Lady Baratheon, it is customary to receive your guests in the great hall of Storm's End with the rest of your family." Gendry's new ward was annoying to say the least. Ser Alyn Tarly, son of Dickon, didn't really know Arya yet, and he obviously didn't know her stubborn wildness was a force to be reckoned with. She was a woman that paid little mind to tradition and manners, and thoroughly enjoyed messing with the boy.

"Fuck customs and fuck the great hall, I see my sister's ship." She kept her grey eyes on the approaching watercraft, although it was tempting to look over and see the expression on the boys face.

After five minutes, the Volantene ship with the tiger sails was tethered to the docks, and Arya waited impatiently as the sailors lowered the walk. Sansa was the first to set foot on the docks. Her face had begun to form slight lines of age, but apart from that, Sansa hadn't aged a single day. She was wearing a lovely Dornish style grey dress, a popular garment in Volantis, as the two climates were both incredibly hot. The moment she saw Arya, a smile erupted on her face. The sisters strode quickly towards each other and collided in a tight and happy embrace.

"Sansa," Arya whispered her sisters' name and squeezed her tightly.

"It's good to see you sister." Sansa stepped back as her four eldest children came up behind her.

"By the gods you have grown! The little Cat is now a tiger." Arya exclaimed. Cat smiled as she hugged her aunt.

"It's good to see you, aunt Arya." Arya was astonished by how similar she looked to her older sister when she was that age. They could have easily passed for twins.

"Oh, Eddard, you look _exactly_ like your father." As she hugged her nephew, he gave a polite smile.

"I'll take that as a compliment. It's good to see you, aunt Arya." She turned to Talisa and smiled. She looked exactly like her namesake, save for the eyes and nose. Those two features were entirely Sansa.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like your namesake, Talisa?" Her niece smiled as she nodded her head.

"Only my father. I missed you, aunt Arya." The two embraced before Lady Baratheon turned to the last of her sister's older children, the daughter named for her paternal grandmother.

"Celyna, my gods you've grown the most. Last time I saw you, you were only nine! You'll be a woman grown by the end of this visit. You look just like your father, you know that? Except of course the eyes. Those are Stark eyes. I should know, I have them myself." Celyna grinned as her aunt pulled her into a hug.

"It's good to see you, aunt Arya." Sansa turned to her sister as she softly grabbed onto her arm.

"Let's not idle any longer, its been far too long since I've seen Gendry and the children." Sansa and Arya walked to the end of the docks where there were seven horses were waiting for them, one already occupied by the Tarly boy.

"Aunt Arya?" Lady Baratheon turned to face the youngest of their party after she and Sansa had mounted their horses with ease.

"Yes my dear?" Celyna, Ned, Talisa, and Cat stood by their horses awkwardly, and Sansa held back a giggle as she turned to her sister.

"In Volantis, we don't ride horses so much as elephants. They don't know how to ride." Arya nodded understandingly.

"Well, no time to learn like the present. Swing your legs over the horses' backs. Come on!" The four siblings preformed the motion with ease. "Now place your feet in the stirrups, grab the reigns, and lightly kick your horse. You four will go with Ser Alyn," She gestured to her husband's annoyed looking ward. "While your mother and I race to the castle." And with that, Arya's horse went into a gallop.

"Oh no you don't!" Sansa called ahead as she kicked her own horse and raced after her little sister.

_SANSA_

Arya beat her in the race to the castle gates. By the time that Sansa had reached her, they were both laughing and panting.

"You always were the better rider." She admitted as she dismounted her horse.

"And I still am." Arya gloated as she jumped from her own horse. "OPEN THE GATES!" She shouted to the men on the walls. The large gates to Storm's End quickly opened as the two sisters walked their horses through. When they reached the great hall, they found Gendry standing by a group of guests with his and Arya's four children: Jon, Ryle, Tallond, and Lyanna. She hadn't seen any of them since they had all come to Volantis to celebrate Miryla's birth seven years before.

"Sansa!" Gendry grinned at his goodsister before waltzing over and wrapping her in a tight embrace. He had maintained his muscular physique quite well, looking more like a man of thirty years rather than forty one. Smile lines traced his electric blue eyes, and on the sides of his head, grey hairs peppered themselves lightly, but apart from that, he looked like he hadn't aged a day. Her sister had aged likewise. She had maintained her slender frame, and apart from smile lines around her eyes, she looked not a day over twenty six, despite being ten years older.

"It's so wonderful to see you again, Gendry." When her goodbrother released her, she smiled at his firstborn son. "Jon, look how you've grown! You look just like your father." Jon grinned as he hugged his aunt.

"You know what they say about Baratheons. _The seed is strong._ Welcome back to Westeros, aunt Sansa." Sansa turned to Ryle, almost an exact replica of his older brother.

"Ryle! The last I saw you, you were an little boy just learning to wield a sword. By the gods you must be seven and ten now!" The second Baratheon nodded his head and embraced his aunt.

"I am. It's good to see you, aunt Sansa." Then she turned to Tallond. Sweet Tallond was now five and ten, and reportedly the finest swordsman in his age group. He had his father's looks, just like his two older brothers.

"Oh sweet Tallond, when did you grow so tall!" She pulled her grinning nephew into a hug.

"Hello aunt Sansa, it's a pleasure to see you." Then there was the last of the Baratheon children: little Lyanna, now a maid of four and ten. She looked so much like a younger version of her sister that Sansa almost called her Arya.

"Little Lya, how you've grown. You'll be a beautiful woman grown soon." Lyanna rolled her eyes.

"I'd rather be a knight than a beautiful woman." Sansa laughed and pulled her niece into a hug. _She truly is her mother's daughter._

"Sansa!" A deep voice bellowed from across the room. The orange haired lady turned to see who's voice it was and began to run towards her smiling cousin.

"Jon!" They collided in a warm embrace, all smiles and laughter. She hadn't seen Jon since Verrum's birth seven years ago, as he was settling disputes in the Reach when Miryla was born.

"Hey, that's your grace to you." Sansa playfully smacked him upside the head and he laughed. While herself and her sister had been spared from age, her cousin had not. Lines of worry and grey hairs of stress decorated his face and beard. He had moved from Winterfell to the Red Keep with his wife after Bran was old enough to rule the North on his own and was currently ruling as king alongside his dragon queen, a very stressful job. Speaking of the dragon queen, up walked Daenerys, all purple eyes and polite smiles, still looking as young as when she and Sansa first met, nineteen years prior.

"Sansa, a pleasure to see you in Westeros again!" The orange haired lady embraced the conquerer queen affectionately.

"The pleasure is all mine, Khaleesi." Daenerys let go of her husband's cousin and beckoned her silver haired and grey eyed son over to join them.

"Rhaegar, you remember lady Sansa, don't you?" The prince smiled kindly and kissed the orange haired lady's hand.

"Vaguely, but yes. Welcome back to Westeros, lady Sansa." She smiled back at him before quickly finding Bran sitting at a table, chatting with his son, Jojen, a boy of twelve. Everyone had been surprised when Meera became pregnant with their daughter, Jyana, as no one thought that Bran could... _preform_. But as it turned out, Bran was not entirely paralyzed below the waist, and house Stark was not subjected to be returned to the dust.

"Bran!" Sansa leaned down and embraced her only living brother.

"Sansa!" Bran hugged her fiercely before Jojen stood to greet his aunt.

"Hello, aunt Sansa. It's a pleasure to see you again." Jojen had been five the last time she had seen him. He was already tall for his age, taking after his father. Well, Bran _would_ be tall if he could stand.

"A pleasure to see you as well, Jojen. I need to visit more often, everyone is growing up so quickly and I'm missing all of it!" Sansa barely seen the blur of brown hair before Meera had practically knocked her to the ground with a hug. "It's good to know that time doesn't stop you from nearly knocking me over every time you see me! Ah, it's good to see you again, Meera." Her goodsister smiled brightly before planting a kiss on Bran's lips and sitting down with him.

"It's so good to see that you finally made it here in time. The tourney will start next week and it's supposed to last a month." Meera dropped her voice to a whisper. "If you want to get matches for your children, now is the best time. I know that Arya and I have been planning to marry Jyana to Tallond, but don't tell that to Jyana. Or Tallond, for that matter." Sansa laughed and began to look around the crowded room.

"Where is Jyana? I've yet to say hello." She then spotted her green eyed and brown haired niece chatting with Celyna. She approached the two of them and and embraced her, exchanging pleasantries before she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hello, lady Sansa." Sansa's blue eyes went wide and a grin danced across her face as she embraced her long time sworn sword and friend, Brienne of Tarth.

"Brienne!" She was wearing a fur trimmed blue gown that fit her beautifully and matched her sapphire eyes. "Twelve years its been. Twelve years too long, if you ask me." Sansa said before Brienne turned to a girl who looked like the ghost of Myrcella Baratheon, only with blue eyes.

"Elaina, I'm not sure if you remember lady Maegyr, but she's here with three of her daughters and her oldest son from Volantis." The girl who was now identified as Elaina Lannister, eldest daughter of Jaime and Brienne, curtsied politely.

"Lady Maegyr, a pleasure." Her voice was soft and lovely, sure to be that of a singer.

"And to you as well, lady Elaina." Another girl joined the Myrcella look alike. She had Jaime Lannister's face save for Brienne's lips. She was slightly shorter than Sansa, and her hair was done up in a pile of golden braids atop her head.

"Lady Maegyr, this is my younger daughter, Lady Sansa Lannister." The Lannister named after her smiled proudly as she curtsied.

"I've heard stories all about you growing up, lady Maegyr. It's an honor to finally meet you." The orange haired lady smiled and returned the curtsy.

"The last time I saw you, you were four years old. It's a pleasure to see you again." At that moment, Jaime Lannister walked up beside his wife with a young boy who could only be his son, Taryn. The boy was tall for his age of twelve, standing almost at the orange haired lady's height. She greeted the golden handed knight with courtesy, but despite the fact that he had been kingsguard to Jon and was married to Brienne, Sansa was never able to completely trust the man. Sansa only truly trusted the people she was able to consider family, and that excluded Jaime Lannister.

After everyone had gone through their reunions and pleasantries with the Maegyrs, the feast began. Sansa was seated with Jon, Daenerys, Bran, Meera, Arya, and Gendry on the dais, looking down on the guests before them. She took note of how Celyna stole glances at Titus Martell, son of Tyene. He was seven and ten and heir to Sunspear. Celyna would shine in Dorne, and Titus was said to be a good man. She would have to investigate any of his past flames to find the truth of his reputation. She was always very selective about potential matches for her children as she wouldn't allow any of her sons or daughters to undergo the trauma that she faced with Joffrey or Ramsay.

"Sansa, look at Rhaegar and Lya. They've been growing close since he, Jon, and Daenerys arrived, but watch, watch! See how Jon sits himself in between them? And how Ryle looks at him like that, all menacing from across the table. And look at Tallond, see how he asserts his dominance by taking food off his plate? They're just like how Robb was when Joffrey came to Winterfell. They're so protective of their little sister." Sansa had grown used to the pain of missing her older brother. The ache and the longing for the days of her childhood never went away, despite the joy that she found in her life in Volantis with her children and husband.

"I pray that your daughter never falls for anyone like Joffrey." Sansa sipped her wine as she watched the scene play out.

"Or Ramsay." Arya said quietly. It had been twenty years since Ramsay had raped the orange haired lady, and yet she still would have nights where she would wake up screaming for him to stop. Ambrose was always there to hold her and wipe her tears whenever it happened. She prayed that she wouldn't have any nightmares while she was so far from her husband's safe and loving arms.

"I wouldn't wish a man like Ramsay on anyone." The sisters grew quiet as they watched their children enjoy the feast before them.

_LYANNA_

Lyanna Baratheon loved her brothers. Truly, she held them near and dear to her heart. They taught her how to swing a sword, ride a horse, shoot an arrow, and throw a spear, and for that she was grateful.

But she absolutely hated when they started acting like _that_.

She and Rhaegar were just trying to enjoy a civilized conversation about dragons. She had not known that dragons had the ability to change sex due to reproductive needs, and Viserion, his dragon, had recently laid eggs.

"Hello Lya, how are you?" Her eldest brother, Jon, suddenly appeared behind her and wedged himself between her and the prince. She rolled her eyes.

"Enjoying our sister's company, eh?" She turned to see her second oldest brother, Ryle, seating himself across the table, staring menacingly at the prince.

"I love lamb, don't mind if I do." Her third brother appeared next to Rhaegar and took a piece of his lamb off of the table. She was upset with her brothers. Any moment now, the silver prince would leave and she would probably never get to have another interesting conversation such as the one she was just enjoying with him ever again and it was all because of her stupid brothers.

"Hello my lords. What brings you over here on this lovely evening?" Rhaegar was not stupid, she knew that from their intriguing conversation. He wasn't truly wondering what her brothers were doing there, he was being polite.

"Just checking up on our baby sister. You know, it feels like it was only seven moons ago that she had her fourteenth nameday. Wait, it _was_ only seven moons ago. How silly of me." Ryle bit off a piece of steak while staring down the ever so polite prince Rhaegar II. Lyanna's septa always told her that if she rolled her eyes too much, they would get stuck like that. _Then let them get stuck so the world can see my annoyance,_ she thought bitterly.

"I doubt that a maid of four and ten can be considered a baby anything, let alone a baby sister." Jon choked on his wine before slamming the goblet down on the table and stared at the smiling prince. Rhaegar responded by taking that very same goblet and sipping a bit of the wine, arching his brow as if to challenge him any further. He then stood. "I can see that I'm not quite welcome here. My lords," He bowed his head shortly to her brothers. "My lady." His grey eyes lingered on her for a little longer than necessary and he bowed a little deeper than most men might before turning around and leaving.

"You're not to speak to that man again." Ryle growled. Lyanna turned around and rested her elbow on the table and her face on her fist.

"I'm sorry, but are you Mother or Father?" Her second oldest brother glared daggers at her. She simply grinned in response before standing up. "I didn't think so." And she went off in pursuit of the silver haired prince.


	2. Jon Baratheon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the Baratheon brothers learn of their father's past, Jon goes on a walk, Arya gives him a talk, and someone that Arya never thought she would see again shows up.

_JON BARATHEON_

The nerve of that fucking prince.

Little Lya. That was what they all called his baby sister, his _only_ sister. Little because of her age, little because of her height, little because she was _little_. Jon couldn't deny that she looked like a woman, nor could he deny that in certain cultures, any girl who'd had their blood _was_ a woman. But she was only four and ten, not yet a woman grown, and far too young to have some cocky, silver haired prince looking at her like she was his to devour. Ryle looked ready to murder when Lya walked away in pursuit of that fucking prince. 

"Someone needs to teach that dragonspawn a lesson." Tallond seethed. Jon nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps, but don't forget that he's royalty. One day he'll come into the throne and he won't forget who hurt him when he didn't have power." The three Baratheon brothers turned to see their father, Lord Gendry Baratheon, standing before them. "Boys, have I ever told you what I was before I was lord of Storm's End?" Jon knew that his father had been a bastard before he was legitimized, he knew the songs.

"You were a bastard of Storm's End." Gendry smiled faintly.

"No I was not. I was a bastard of King's Landing. I grew up in— " Ryle cut him off.

"The Red Keep amongst the false queens incestuous bastards." Gendry gave his second son a stern look.

"You didn't let me finish. I did not grow up in the Red Keep, I grew up in Flea Bottom, raised by the whores at the tavern where my dead mother had worked until one of them sold me to a blacksmith named Tobho Mott. It was there that I learned my trade of smithing, and it was Tobho Mott who sold me to a Night's Watch recruiter ten years later. While on the journey up to the Wall, I met a scrawny little girl who had cut off her hair to pose as a boy and called herself Arry the orphan. Arry liked to insult people bigger than her and she feared very little. Do you know where Arry the orphan is now?" Jon shrugged, attempting to act casual and unsurprised, but the fact that his lord father had been a baseborn bastard blacksmith from Flea Bottom was more than shocking.

"Dead?" Gendry chuckled before shaking his head and pointing to his wife and mother of his children, Arya Baratheon, up on the dais.

"She's sitting right there." The boys' jaws dropped to the ground in disbelief.

"But mother was a Stark, a highborn and a prisoner of Cersei Lannister, how did she end up traveling posed as a boy to join the Night's Watch?" Tallond pressed, but his lord father only shrugged.

"That's a longer story for another day. The point is, your mother and I rose high after coming into power, and we still remember everyone who ever helped us _and_ everyone who ever hurt us when I was nothing more than a bastard blacksmith and she was nothing more than scrawny little girl pretending to be a boy. One day that prince will become king, and he won't forget the Baratheon brothers who hurt him. Besides, you've no right teach your prince a so-called _lesson_ just because he was talking with your sister. Lighten up, lads. Drink some wine, talk to girls, and relax. Let your sister speak to whomever she likes, and if anyone decides to disrespect her, they'll have myself and your mother to answer to." Jon knew his father was a kind man, but he definitely knew how to look threatening. His mother was not one that seemed particularly menacing, so he didn't know exactly how her threats might affect someone disrespecting their little Lya. Then, his father stood, nodded to his sons, and returned to his spot on the dais next to his wife.

A few minutes after the Baratheon brothers were left puzzled by their father, a slim girl with long, golden ringlets and bright sapphire eyes caught Jon's eye. Ryle smirked as he watched his brother watch the girl in the crimson dress.

"Looks like someone's got his eyes on Elaina Lannister." Tallond remarked.

"He'd rather have his cock in her than his eyes on her." Jon whipped around at his sneering brother.

"Go fuck yourself, Ryle." His oldest younger brother feigned shock and insult before Jon got up to go talk to the beautiful Lannister girl. She was sitting and chatting with her younger sister, Sansa, when he approached.

"My lady, might I ask if you would like to join me on a walk?" Elaina smiled sweetly as she accepted. She took his arm and the two exited the great hall and out to the gardens.

"Lady Elaina, are you enjoying your stay here?" She nodded her head and readjusted her light grip on his arm.

"I am. It's been only clear nights since my family's arrival four days ago. I've begun to think that 'Storm's End' is a misnomer." Jon chuckled as they continued to walk beneath the clear night sky, the moonlight guiding their way.

"It most definitely is not a misnomer, my lady. I think the past five days have been the longest span of time that this place has gone without seeing any storms." Elaina giggled in response.

"Are you going to be competing in the tourney?" Jon nodded his head.

"I am, my lady." She nodded slowly.

"I wish I were allowed to compete." He suppressed a laugh. He could barely imagine the dainty Lannister girl shooting an arrow or wielding a sword, let alone doing it in a competition. "You think the idea of me competing is funny." It was.

"The thought of a lady of your level of elegance competing in jousts or axe throwing contests is fairly amusing to me, yes. Forgive me if I've offended you, my lady." Elaina scoffed, surprising him.

"I took you for an intelligent man." Jon furrowed his brow.

"I'd like to think that I am intelligent." Elaina grinned, as if she knew a joke and wasn't going to tell it to anyone.

"You may do well in your studies, but clearly you've forgotten that my mother is lady Brienne of Tarth, legendary warrior, and sworn sword to both your aunt and your namesake. I was under the impression that you would be intelligent enough to be able to figure out that she would never let her daughters grow up without learning how to swing a sword." Jon stopped walking and Elaina walked ahead of him before stopping and turning around, her expression innocent as a rose. "Are you coming?" He nodded his head, and quickly caught up to her, before their conversation went back to pleasant talk about the weather and gossip.

Jon was actually enjoying himself with Elaina when he heard two other voices. He stopped when he recognized one of them as Lya's and the other belonging to the prince.

"... And mother still has her. Right now she's off prowling around the forest, as she has been for a few days. But she'll be back. She always comes back." Jon began to approach the two, who were sitting far too close together on a bench looking out onto the calm waters of Shipbreaker Bay.

"Nymeria sounds quite interesting. I'd quite like to meet a direwolf one day." Lyanna smiled at the dragonspawn prince.

"I'd quite like to meet a dragon." She responded.

"Would you like to ride a dragon, my lady?" Lya's grey eyes went wide as she beamed at Rhaegar softly.

"I always wondered how it would feel to fly." At that moment, Jon made his presence known by walking in front of them. "Jon? What in the seven hells are you doing here?" The eldest of the Baratheon children was seething as he forced his sister to stand and pushed her away from the prince.

"What are your intentions with my sister?" He snarled at the silver prince who looked a bit shocked.

"Definitely not what you're thinking they are, my lord. Lady Lyanna and I were simply having a conversation about your mother's direwolf, I didn't make any advance— " Jon cut him off.

"Oh sure, you just brought her out to the empty gardens where no one could witness a thing to _talk_ , is that it?" The prince stood, his height matching that of Jon.

"It is, actually. Is it such a radical notion that a man could want to have an intelligent and interesting conversation someplace quiet with a lady without having any ulterior motives?" Jon glared at him and almost insulted him further before his mother appeared on the highest of the four marble steps between one level of the gardens and the one on which Elaina, Lya, Jon, and Rhaegar were standing.

"Jon, what in the seven hells is going on? Never mind that, come now, I have matters to discuss with you. Inside." Jon was nineteen and a man grown, yet he still obeyed his mother with strict obedience.

"Piss off, Jon!" Lya yelled after him as he followed his mother back inside. She led him up the great stairwell and into his solar which was connected to his bedchambers.

"Was the prince hurting Little Lya?" Arya was serious now. The door was closed and she looked at her eldest son with an expression of urgency.

"No, but— " Arya raised her hand to silence him with a small grin.

"Then you were being over protective. You're just like your uncle, you know that?" Jon sat down in a wooden chair by the table and looked at his mother, confused.

"How am I like Uncle Bran?" A soft and distant look came over his mother's face as she shook her head.

"Not Bran. Robb." Jon nodded slowly. His mother never spoke of her deceased brothers, yet he heard the songs. He knew about the young wolf and the pup, Robb and Rickon, both of them slain by traitors named Bolton.

"You never talk about him." Arya smiled sadly.

"Because it upsets me." She paused before walking over to the window and looking out of the glass. "When king Robert Baratheon, your paternal grandfather, came to Winterfell to ask my father to be his hand, I was eleven. Your aunt Sansa was thirteen, a year younger than little Lya is now, and she was head over heels for the false prince, Joffrey. Robb was overprotective of her, and he made sure that Joffrey knew it. You and your brothers are exactly like Robb." She paused before smiling again. "Did you know that you have his wrists?" Jon cocked his head, confused.

"I didn't know that wrists were a remarkable trait." Arya shrugged.

"Neither did I until a few nights ago. You were arm wrestling with Ryle, and I saw your wrists. If I just looked at your wrists, it was like I was looking at Robb. For a split second I forgot that he'd been dead for years and I thought he was right in front of me." Arya swallowed and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "You know, sometimes we fear people that we don't know, and we express that fear through defensive hatred." Jon rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"I'm not afraid of the prince, if that's what you're getting at." Arya laughed.

"No, my darling, that's not what I'm getting at. You know, when I first found out that I was pregnant with you, I was only seventeen. I had just married your father and I still had so much of my life ahead of me, I wasn't prepared to be a mother. When the healer told me, I didn't believe her. I told her that there was no way, that a series of stab wounds to the gut had left me unable to have children, that I was just ill." Jon cut her off.

"Wait, when were you stabbed in the gut?" Arya didn't skip a beat before responding.

"In the North we sometimes call a blow a stab. I had suffered a few blows to my belly earlier on in life." Jon nodded his head and motioned for his mother to continue.

"I had told the healer that I was unable to have children, but she insisted that I was pregnant. I then realized that I hadn't had my moon blood in over two moon turns, and I was absolutely terrified. I hated the prospect of becoming a mother. Sansa had just recently given birth to your cousin, Catelyn, and I was not prepared to undergo the same pain. On the walk over to your father's chambers where I would tell him the news, I began to envision a future with a babe on my hip. In my head, I saw you smiling for the first time, I heard you babbling baby nonsense, I imagined you taking your first steps. And by the time I had reached your father's chambers, I could barely wait to become a mother." Jon smiled softly as his mother continued. "Sometimes, it can take a matter of minutes or a matter of years to warm up to someone. But in the end, you'll always look back and wonder how you ever felt anything but love for that person. Give the prince some time, my darling, and perhaps you'll grow to be his friend. Or maybe he doesn't even want little Lya, or she him. We don't know." Jon agreed with his mother begrudgingly and she pulled him up and out of his chair. "Come, my darling. Let's get back to the feast." They were taking a shortcut through the gardens back to the great hall when Arya stopped suddenly. Jon spotted a man across the way staring at his mother. He was holding a shining, round coin between his middle and forefinger and he was dressed in a full suit of armor. His mother's face had gone pale and she looked as if she was staring death in the face.

"Do you know that man?" Arya nodded slowly as she put her arm out slowly in front of her firstborn son, pushing him slightly behind her.

"I haven't seen him in many, many years." Jon furrowed his brow. His mother was a fierce and fearless woman, and he had never seen her like this.

"Who is he?" Arya swallowed nervously.

"No one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN!!!! So, for confirmation, yes, it is Jaqen H'Ghar, or simply "A man" who has just appeared. I was going to add more points of view to this chapter, but I liked how it ended with that twist. Also I would just like to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this, left kudos, or a comment. It's been two days since I posted the first chapter and it already has over 500 hits! So thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment. Bye bye!


	3. Arya/Jaqen/Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arya is given a warning, Jaqen tries to forget, and Gendry agrees to something that he doesn't want to do.

_ARYA_

"Go back inside, my darling. I'll join you in a moment." Arya uttered the words as Jon slowly and cautiously left his mother for the feast. Once Jon had left, the faceless man approached her.

"A girl has made true on her promise. You went back west. You made it home." Arya swallowed nervously, trying to defeat her fear.

"What do you want?" She spat. A man tutted as he began to walk in a circle around her.

"Many years ago, the many faced god was promised a name. A girl knows that he must always receive what is his." Arya inhaled sharply.

"The hall gained another face. The god of death claimed another victim. I killed the Waif. What more do you want?" A man stopped in front of Arya and drew a knife.

"It was not the Waif's name that was promised." She felt a lump forming in her throat as she stepped back.

"What name was promised?" A man let out a laugh.

"A girl's own name. Arya Stark." She grinned defiantly.

"There is no such person by that name. A girl is lady Arya Baratheon of Storm's End. I haven't been Arya Stark for years." A man raised an eyebrow.

"A girl got married." She nodded as she continued to walk backwards.

"Aye." A man shrugged.

"A name is still a name. A girl has been running from her past for far too long. It's time that the many faced god receive what is his." Arya backed into a tree. She was cornered now with the point of the knife barely touching the pale skin of her neck.

"At least let me say goodbye." A man nodded and withdrew the knife. She clutched her neck frantically.

"A girl wishes to bid farewell to her husband." Arya shook her head.

"Not only to Gendry. I want to say goodbye to my sister, my brother, and my cousin." Her voice dropped to a whimper. "I want to say goodbye to my children." A man stepped back, obviously surprised.

"A girl is a mother?" Arya nodded.

"The man I was with when I saw you is my firstborn." A man furrowed his brow, almost looking concerned.

"A girl became a mother young then." Arya nodded.

"I was seventeen." A man pursed his lips.

"How many children would a girl leave behind when she dies?" Arya swallowed again as the faces of Jon, Ryle, Tallond, and Lyanna flashed before her eyes.

"Four. Three sons, one daughter." A man nodded, his expression distant and shaken.

"I will not harm you. Children need their mothers." Arya breathed a sigh of relief as a man stepped back, almost as if he were waking from a daze. "You should protect your children. I am not the last of the faceless men, and there are many who would pay a great deal to see you suffer." As a man turned around to leave, Arya's mind began to race with questions. _Who wants me dead? Who in the seven hells would want to hurt my children?_ "The Freys, the Trants, and a few from house Payne. A girl has left quite the trail of blood. Revenge did not end with you." He said the words casually as if he were distracted. And then, a man disappeared into the shadows without a trace. Arya hurried back inside and found her children all sitting together and laughing.

"Children." She hugged each of her sons and her daughter close to her breast, one at a time.

"Mother, what's going on?" Lyanna asked, clearly concerned at the look on her mother's face.

"Nothing, little Lya. Nothing at all." But that night when Arya went to bed with her husband, she couldn't sleep for fear of her sons' and daughter's lives.

_JAQEN_

_Forget, forget, forget._

He always repeated those words in his head whenever a memory started to resurface.

_Her eyes are grey like Zara's were_

_Forget, forget forget!_

_Pana had her mother's eyes._

_Forget! Forget! Forget!_

_So did her three brothers._

_FORGET, FORGET, FORGET._

_My children had their mother's eyes._

" _FORGET_ , DAMN YOU!" He shouted aloud as he hit his hands against his head. He looked around frantically. Thankfully, no one was around to hear.

A man was nearing the docks where a ship would take him back to Braavos.

_Or you could go back to Lys._

Jaqen closed his eyes and tried hard not to remember, but it was no use. The memories started to trickle back into his mind. His daughter's smiling face. His wife's grey eyes. His sons singing voices. It all started to slowly come back to him. He grabbed the flask at his hip and downed the liquid inside. He felt his memories slipping away once more as he walked out onto the docks.

"Do you have any coin to pay for passage, ser?" A man nodded.

"Where does this ship go?" A man asked. The sailor began hauling cargo onto the deck of the fairly small ship.

"First we go to Braavos and then I take it down to Lys." _Lys_. Jaqen hesitantly grabbed his purse of gold dragons.

"Is this enough for you to stop in at Lys before Braavos?" The sailor took the purse and his eyes widened as he saw the gold.

"Most definitely, ser." Jaqen nodded his head slowly.

"Thank you." When the ship set sail an hour later, Jaqen closed his eyes and saw his daughter's smiling face once more.

_I'm coming home, Pana. Father is coming home._

_GENDRY_

"Are you truly suggesting that we do this _now?_ " Arya nodded. "Tallond is only fifteen! He and Jyana don't exactly get along, either." Gendry was trying to reason with his wife who was pacing the room worriedly.

"I know that, but Jyana is heir to Greywater Watch. If she and Tallond marry, then he can live there and he'll be safe." Gendry furrowed his brow and took a step back.

"Safe? Is he not safe here? Arya, is there something that you're not telling me?" His wife sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands.

"No, he's not safe here. Neither is Jon, or Ryle, or little Lya." Gendry sat down next to his wife, stuttering before he could respond.

"H-H-How do you know this? Who threatened our children?" Gendry's voice was oozing with fear and anger.

"Do you remember Jaqen H'Ghar?" Gendry thought back to the mysterious Braavosi sellsword who helped them escape Harrenhal so many years ago and slowly nodded his head.

"Yes." He said slowly.

"He was the leader of the faceless men back when I trained with them in Braavos. He's here. He was out in the gardens when he gave me a warning that there are people who want to take revenge on me. They would gladly pay for a faceless man to harm our children, and keeping them all in one place isn't going to protect them." Gendry's heart was racing. He loved his family more than anything he had ever known and he wasn't going to let anyone take that away from him.

"We'll have our best guards posted outside of their doors at all times, they will follow them everywhere. They'll never be unprotected." Arya shook her head as she grabbed her husband's hand and locked her eyes on his.

"I have been faceless, Gendry. Cersei Lannister had Ser Ilyn Payne and the Mountain guarding her when I killed her, a thousand guards can't protect our children if the servants of the many faced god come for them. The faceless men don't kill with armor on their backs and swords in their hands, they kill with poisons and magic when your guard is down. We have to get them away from Storm's End as fast as possible, and marrying Ryle, Tallond, and Lya will get them away from here." Gendry could hear the hurt in his wife's quiet voice. He knew that she didn't want to send their children away just as much as he. But he would rather have living children away from him than dead children in the crypts of Storm's End.

"Who did you have in mind for matches?" Arya sighed as she stood and walked over to the balcony, leaning against the wall rather than stepping out onto it.

"For Tallond, Jyana Stark. She's heir to Greywater Watch in the neck, so they'll live there. They may not get along now, but perhaps they'll learn to love one another. For Ryle, Sansa Lannister. She is heir to Evenfall Hall, so he'll be close by, but still far enough away that they won't get him. For Jon, Elaina Lannister. The two spent half the night walking the gardens, so perhaps they'll be a happy match. He can spend a year at Casterly Rock before they would come back here to be married." She paused. Gendry stood and walked over to her before wrapping his arms around her waist.

"And Lya?" Arya sighed loudly.

"I was thinking that she might make a good match with prince Rhaegar." Gendry nodded slowly.

"The boys won't be happy about that." She nodded before chuckling.

"Imagine, princess Lyanna Baratheon. She won't be happy about it either." Her voice dropped to an almost whisper. "Her blacksmith's boy won't be any happier than our lot." Gendry stepped back.

"What's this about the blacksmith's boy? Are you taking about Crispin Storm? What's that fucking cunt been doing with our daughter?" Gendry got louder wth each sentence and Arya only chuckled before walking back over to him and stroking his arms to calm him.

"Our daughter is courting a bastard blacksmith. Does that ring any bells in that head of yours or are you too stupid to hear them?" He rolled his eyes at his wife.

"You and I were different!" Arya raised her eyebrows.

"Were we?" Gendry gave her a playful glare.

"As far as I know, our daughter didn't meet her bastard blacksmith while posed as a boy fleeing King's Landing because they were both wanted dead there." Arya rolled her eyes, but still smiled.

"You win." He grinned before pulling her into a warm embrace. They looked out onto the balcony and stared at the calm waters below.

"She's fourteen and we're marrying her off." He whispered. She nodded her head against his chest.

"I don't want to do this either. But it's the only way to keep them safe." They stood like that in each other's arms for quite some time before they disrobed down to their small clothes and fell into deep and dreamless slumbers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I started this fic imagining it would be more centered around Sansa's family, but so far it seems to be gravitating more towards Arya's family. And let's address the obvious: Jaqen H'Ghar is remembering his life before the faceless men! I'm so excited to explore his character, his motives, and what drives him in this work! Thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a comment. Bye bye!


	4. Jon/Talisa/Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jon makes an agreement with Arya, Talisa insults her brother and comforts her sister, and something horrible happens to Cat.

_JON_

Jon Targaryen woke somewhat early in the morning, leaving his usual schedule of waking at dawn behind. But the spot in the bed where his wife normally lay was empty. He sat up and looked around before finding Dany looking out of the great window. It started at the floor and went up to the ceiling. It was covered by clear glass, and when you looked out, you could see the gardens and the courtyard below. He got up and walked over to his wife and leaned against the side of the window opposite to her. She had tears in her purple eyes and her breath was coming out in sniffles. He didn't have a chance to ask what was wrong before she told him.

"Today is the seventeenth anniversary of Jorah's death." Jon nodded slowly. Jorah Mormont had been his wife's paramour and close advisor for years, and when he died in combat during the failed Florent rebellion, Dany had gone into a deep depression. The only thing that brought her out of that darkness was discovering that she was pregnant with Rhaegar seven months after Jorah's demise. After Rhaegar's birth, she and Jon began to slowly fall in love, as they shared a great mutual love for their son. Dany had suffered three miscarriages and a stillbirth before Rhaegar, which only made her so much more happy when he was born, happy and healthy.

"I see. Do you want to be left alone?" Jon asked and Dany nodded. "As you wish, my love." He quickly dressed himself before nodding a goodbye to his wife. As he exited their chambers, he ran into his cousin, who was exiting her lord's chambers.

"Good morning Arya, how did you sleep?" The king asked, even though he knew that it had been a good rest based on the lack of dark circles under her grey eyes.

"I slept fairly well. Let's go down to eat." He and Arya began walking down the great stairwell and into the great hall where breakfast would be taking place for those important enough to have chambers in the actual castle of Storm's End rather than packed outside in tents and huts. Around the main table sat Sansa, Cat, Ned, Talisa, Celyna, Bran, Meera, Jyana, Jojen, Gendry, Jon, Ryle, Tallond, and Rhaegar. Arya walked up behind her lord husband and planted a kiss on his cheek before sitting down beside him. Rhaegar looked at his father with furrowed brows.

"Where's mother?" Rhaegar asked. Jon sat down at the head of the table, beside the corner where Sansa sat as a serving girl brought forward a plate of bacon and eggs.

"Your grace." The serving girl said before curtsying and leaving back for the kitchens.

"Yes, where is Daenerys? It's been so long since I've gotten to really catch up with her." Sansa asked as she took a bite of the bacon.

"The queen is resting. She didn't get much sleep last night, so she's getting it now." Everyone nodded understandingly at Jon's partial truth before Arya spoke up.

"Where's Lya?" She turned to her firstborn son who sat to her right.

"She's out at the forge. I was going to put in a request for my armor to be repaired, but she offered to do it." Jon Baratheon said in between forkfuls of egg. Arya gave Gendry a knowing look before turning to her cousin and standing.

"Your grace, might you join me in collecting my daughter?" Jon nodded and stood before she grabbed him by the arm and they hurried out of the great hall.

"What's going on?" He asked as Arya stopped him right before they reached the forge.

"My children are in danger." The king's eyes widened and before he had a chance to respond, she explained. "I won't go into all the intricate details, but what you need to know is that I need to get Jon, Ryle, Tallond, and Lyanna away from here. I do that by getting them all married. And I know that you and Dany have been looking for a suitable match for Rhaegar, and I know that he's a good lad who won't do anything to dishonor her, so perhaps when this tourney is over, she can go to King's Landing as your son's betrothed, and you can keep her safe. I know this is a lot to request of you all at once, but I needed to tell you." As Jon took it all in, he thought about how Rhaegar might react. His cousin was right, the prince was a good lad who would do no harm to little Lya. And a Baratheon was a good match for a Targaryen. Jon almost laughed when he realized that his son and Arya's daughter were named after both of his parents. _Rhaegar and Lyanna._ Perhaps it could work out nicely.

"I'll have to speak with Dany about it. And Rhaegar, of course. But if it means keeping your daughter safe, then by all means, we will take her in." Arya smiled gratefully as she wrapped her arms around her cousin's neck.

"Thank you, Jon." The king hugged her back, squeezing her tight.

"You're welcome, Arya." They held each other for a moment longer before Lyanna exited the forge, her hair a bit messy, her face all pink and smiling, and her clothes perfectly intact. Her grey eyes instantly landed on her mother and the king.

"Mother? What are you doing here?" Arya began brushing through her daughter's dark hair with her fingers and quickly pulled it back into a simple and long braid that hung down to the ends of her shoulder blades.

"Don't want to let your father or brothers see your hair like that. Come to breakfast, love, your absence has been noted." Lyanna blushed as she looked down and followed her mother and her king back to the great hall. She sat herself on the corner beside the head of the table where the prince sat and beside Tallond.

After breakfast that day, Jon couldn't help but think about what Arya had told him. _Why are her children in danger?_ He knew that his cousin was a stubborn woman and that she would not tell him the reason without a good argument that he was far too tired to deal with, so he figured that he might as well go along with it. He found his son sparring in the courtyard with the young Baratheon girl, who was dressed in a grey leather jerkin with a tight fitted white tunic underneath and black leather leggings. _The colors of house Stark._ He stood on the sidelines as he watched their swords clash over and over again. They were equally matched, and both parties were focused and driven. After five minutes of the king watching them fight, Lya spun around so she was behind Rhaegar, dropped her sword, pulled a knife, and held it to his neck. His son dropped his sword and held up his hands.

"I yield!" Little Lya grinned as she stepped back and sheathed her knife. The crowd that had gathered began to clap reluctantly until their prince held up her hand, as if to name her champion. Then the cheering began. Gendry's ward, the Tarly boy of eight and ten, Alyn, stepped out from the crowd and approached Lya with a certain haughty air about him.

"Who taught you to fight like that, girl? Your brothers?" Lya brought her hand down from the prince's and crossed her arms in a defiant manner. Jon was instantly struck by how much she resembled her mother in that moment.

"My brothers taught me to swing a sword and my mother taught me to fight with it." The men in the crowd started jeering and laughing.

"Lady Baratheon? Taught _you_ how to fight? Sure, little girl, sure." Lyanna stepped forward and glared at the ward.

"And who taught you, Tarly? Your cunt father?" Alyn glared at Lya and clenched his fists.

"Don't you talk about my father like that! He's the finest swordsman you'd ever see!" She grinned smugly at his anger. The prince had stepped back and Jon spotted Arya across the training yard. She was wearing a yellow dress with tight sleeves and a hem that stopped above her ankles.

"My mother could beat your father in a minute with her right hand behind her back." Lya sneered as Alyn scoffed. Arya approached the two with an oddly calm smile on her face.

"I'd like to see the bitch try!" Arya was now standing directly behind Alyn before she cleared her throat and made her presence known. The Tarly boy's face clearly revealed the knowledge that he'd made a mistake, but his voice did not as he turned around to face lady Baratheon.

"I could beat you blindfolded, boy, so watch your tongue." Alyn rolled his brown eyes before responding.

"Then why don't you?" The boy was too cocky for his own good. Rhaegar joined his father as everyone watched Arya take a step forward, her face a menacing glare, and she pulled a knife from Alyn's own belt before bringing the point to his neck.

"The next time that you disrespect myself or my family, I won't let you off with a warning. I'm lady Baratheon to you, boy, not a bitch. Know your place." Arya then removed the knife from his neck and strode proud and tall towards her daughter before looping her arm through Lya's and walking off. Jon shook his head, laughing quietly before the crowd dispersed. He and his son began walking towards the stables without a word.

"She's brilliant with a sword." Rhaegar said, breaking the silence. Jon nodded as a stable boy brought their horses forward, two black destriers with a bow and a 'Your grace'.

"She learned from the best." Rhaegar furrowed his brow and cocked his head as they began to trot their horses towards the gates of Storm's End, where they would continue to go on to ride about the fields where the tourney would be taking place in six days time.

"She said that her mother taught her." Jon grinned at the memory of when he gave his cousin her first sword, Needle, before leaving for the wall.

"Aye, she did." Rhaegar only looked more confused.

"Is lady Baratheon good with a sword?" Jon chuckled as he thought back to the time when he received a report that she had killed two of the best kingsguard, the Mountain and Ser Ilyn Payne using only that little sword.

"What Lya said about her mother being able to fight blindfolded with her right hand behind her back? It's true." Now it was the prince's turn to laugh as they brought their horses up to a canter outside the gates of Storm's End. The king smiled. "You think I'm joking." Rhaegar's smile disappeared.

"Are you not joking, father?" Jon shook his head.

"When she was about your age she learned to fight without any use of her eyes. And she naturally uses her left hand for most things, sword fighting is no exception. So I wouldn't doubt for a second that lady Baratheon could beat that Tarly twat with a blindfold and her right hand behind her back." Rhaegar furrowed his brows once more as their horses sped into gallops.

"But why did she learn to fight without her eyes?" Jon pressed his lips tight and pretended that he didn't hear his son's question before he turned the conversation to the subject of Arya and Gendry's daughter.

"So what do you think of Lyanna?" Rhaegar smiled at his father's question.

"She is such an interesting person. She makes such thought provoking conversation and she's a brilliant fighter. She's a unique lady and I enjoy spending time with her." Jon nodded as they circled around the stands that were going up where the jousts would take place four weeks later.

"Have you given any thought to marrying her?" Rhaegar's smile disappeared as the prince slowed his horse to a stop.

"Father, she's four and ten." Jon stopped his horse and turned it to face his son.

"Rhaegar, you know that you'll have to marry soon. Your mother and I are getting older every minute, and you'll be king someday. You'll need to wed and produce an heir." His son looked incredibly offended when he said the words, as if they had been insults.

"Father, I'm only sixteen. I have plenty of time before I need to marry and produce an heir, why now? And why with Lya Baratheon?" Jon held up his hands, keeping his thumbs hooked onto the reins of the horse.

"It was only a suggestion. And do you not fancy the girl?" The prince brought his horse to a walk and motioned for his father to join him. The two horses walked alongside each other as the prince and the king talked.

"I hadn't really thought about it until now. Of course, she's beautiful, intelligent, and interesting, but she's still only four and ten, father, and I only two years her senior. Must we speak of this now?" Jon sighed and put on a smile at his son.

"We won't talk about it now. Just know that I spoke with lady Baratheon, and she and her lord husband have given their blessing for the union." Rhaegar rolled his grey eyes and galloped back towards the castle. It was going to be a tough union to pull off.

_TALISA_

Talisa Maegyr loved her older sister unconditionally. Cat was her best friend, as she always had been and always would be.

She also loved her older brother Ned. But she _despised_ him when he was acting the way that he was with Cat.

"Good evening Tal." He said as he planted a kiss on Talisa's head. They were in the library of Storm's End, reading some of the Westerosi stories about knights and kings. She was curled up on one end of a couch and Cat was on the other end.

"Good evening Ned." Her brother then turned to their eldest sister. He walked past her to get a book from one of the shelves.

"Bolton." He mumbled. It was his rude way of greeting their half sister. Cat hated being reminded of the fact that they were only half siblings in blood, that father wasn't truly her father, and that she would never know the man who planted his seed in their mother nineteen years before.

"Good evening, brother." Cat whispered, barely audible. She was a sensitive person when it came to Ned. He knew how to push her buttons to make her crack, and he loved to push those buttons. Mother and father always chided him for it, but it didn't keep him from continuing.

"I'm your _half_ brother, Bolton, don't act as if the half isn't there." Ned sneered. Talisa slammed her book down on the couch where she was reclined.

" _Ȳdra daor sagon iā orvorta!_ " (Don't be a cunt!) Talisa snarled. Ned glared at his younger sister.

" _Iksis issare drēje issare iā orvorta?_ " (Is being correct being a cunt?) He taunted, before his sister stood abruptly.

" _Māzigon, mandia._ " (Come, sister.)Talisa kept her harsh glare on her brother as she gently grabbed her sister's hand. " _Ivestragī's jikagon skoriot konīr iksis daor genes._ " (Let us go where there are no rats.) They then exited the library, Talisa fuming and Catelyn hurt.

"Are you alright?" Talisa asked once they were in their shared chambers. Cat nodded, but her sister could see the tears running down her face.

"Your brother is a cunt." The orange haired Bolton mumbled halfheartedly through her tears. Her sister lifted up her chin so their eyes met.

" _Our_ brother is a cunt. All three of us were formed in the same womb, and all three of us share our mother's blood. We were raised by the same parents, in the same home, and with the same values. The only difference between us and our brother is that Ned is too much of a cunt to apply those values when it comes to you." Cat gave a half hearted smile and hugged her sister.

"I'll never understand why he's like this. We were so close as children. It's as if one day he realized that we bore different family names and he decided that Bolton was a bad one." The orange haired Bolton whispered softly through small sniffles. Talisa shook her head and sat her down on the large bed that they shared.

"Bolton is a name that you should be proud of. You're the only one of them left! _Se, nyke pendagon ao sagon se mērī Bōltin naejot gīmigon Valyrīha._ " (And, I think you're the only Bolton to know Valyrian.) Talisa had her arm around her older sister's shoulders, and Cat smiled affectionately as she nodded.

" _Issa_ quptenka _daor syt Vesterozia naejot gīmigon Valyrīha._ " (It _is_ uncommon for Westerosi to know Valyrian.) Cat said with a smile. Her sister than wiped her tears off of her face and gave her an encouraging smile.

" _Dōrī nārhēdegon bona iksā se ānogar hen zoklīo. Dōrī nārhēdegon bona iksi se tala hen dāryssy se dāria hen sōnar. Se ānogar hen īlva muña dakogon kostōba isse ao, mandia. Avy jorrāelan._ " (Never forget that you are the blood of the direwolf. Never forget that we are the daughters of the kings and queens of Winter. And the blood of our mother runs strong in you, sister. I love you.) Talisa planted a kiss on her sister's forehead and in response, her orange haired sister hugged her close.

" _Avy jorrāelan tolī, hāedar._ " (I love you too, little sister.) As the moon drifted in the sky, the two sisters held each other close before they drifted off into a deep sleep, intertwined in the way that they often slept when they were children.

_SANSA_

Sansa woke to an empty bed in the morning and for a split second, she forgot where she was and patted the mattress frantically, feeling for Ambrose's sleeping form. She then quickly remembered her triarch husband was still in Volantis with the twins, Verrum, and little Miryla. She missed Robb, Rickon, Verrum, and Ambrose, but most of all, she wished that she could have brought her youngest daughter, the baby of the family. In the seven years since Miryla's birth, she had never been away from her for more than a day, and it had been over a month. She hoped that her daughter was doing well without her.

She got out of her bed and brushed her long, orange hair and pulled it into a single twisted braid that draped over her right shoulder before dressing herself. She wore a dark green dress with large sleeves and a straight neckline that went a bit lower than her normal attire. She clasped her hands together, held in the front of her belly and exited her chambers to go to her daughters' guest bedchambers. Lyna was sleeping in her own smaller bed by the window while Cat and Tal were snuggled next to each other on the larger bed in the middle of the room. Sansa was going to wake them, but something in the way Cat's arm was draped over Talisa's neck made her stop and stare for a minute. She instantly placed the odd feeling of deja vu with the memory of when she had been pregnant with her firstborn and woke up in the middle of the night screaming from a nightmare. Arya had come instantly to comfort her and they had fallen asleep together in her bed. A slow smile creeped across lady Maegyr's face as she recalled the memory. She relished in it for a moment longer before pulling herself out of the trance and went to wake her fourth born child, Celyna.

"It's morning, love. We'll be breaking our fast soon." Lyna nodded and yawned before getting out of her bed and stretching. Sansa then walked over and gently shook her two oldest daughters, saying the same words to them as she did to Lyna before leaving for the bedchambers across the hall where her son slept. She opened to door to find him asleep, looking exactly like a younger version of his father. He was so peaceful in slumber, his brow never furrowed in confusion or concern, and his lips never frowning. She tip toed towards him and gently stroked his head of black curls.

" _Qrīdrughāks._ " (Go away.) He mumbled as she continued to stroke his hair.

"It's morning, my darling. We'll be breaking our fast soon." Ned groaned before removing himself from the bed and rubbing the sleep from his black eyes.

Sansa met her children outside in the hallway five minutes later and the left for the great hall. Cat, Tal, and Lyna were all wearing dresses with long, large sleeves, quite uncomfortably so, as they were not used to wearing any sleeves at all. In Volantis, if sleeves were ever on dresses, they would always go off the shoulders and were made of light and airy material. Ned didn't look any more comfortable in his leather jerkin, cotton tunic, and cotton breeches. She appreciated her children's efforts to try to immerse themselves in the Westerosi culture, but it was almost sad in a way. It reminded her that her own eight children considered the customs and traditions that she grew up with foreign and strange, and that they most likely always would. While she loved every bit of her life in Volantis, it was a bit disheartening when she realized that her children didn't even know how to ride a horse. As they reached the great hall, Sansa found everyone already seated, save for Meera and Jojen, who were just sitting down. Sansa took her seat on the corner next to Jon, sitting at the head of the table, and Cat, Ned, Talisa, and Celyna sat down in age order next to their mother from oldest to youngest. As they finished their breakfast, Sansa was pulled aside by her sister.

"Sansa, there's something I want to show you." Her younger sister whispered excitedly as she grabbed onto Sanaa's arm and led her outside of the great hall. They kept walking until they reached a little patch of tall and thick trees surrounded by wild flowers springing up everywhere. Arya grinned excitedly. "Close your eyes." Sansa shut her eyes as Arya led her through the little grove of trees before stopping abruptly. "Open." The orange haired lady opened her eyes and was hit with a a shock of surprise and instant nostalgia. Standing before her was an authentic and ancient weirwood tree. She walked towards it slowly before reaching out to touch it's gnarled face.

"I thought all the weirwoods in the south were cut down," She whispered, almost as if she were afraid to wake the old gods inside the natural temple.

"Not all, just most. Storm's End has a weirwood in the godswood. I overhead Cat saying something to Talisa about you praying by a Banyan tree in Castle Maegyr, and I thought you might want to pray where our gods can hear you." Sansa and Arya then reverently knelt before the tree and began to silently pray to the old gods of the forest. Sansa wasn't sure what struck her, but in that moment she wished to see her brother Robb more than she ever had before. The sensation that followed was eerie. It almost felt like her older brother was right there beside her, looking down at her. The scent of her Robb Stark filled her nose and when she opened her eyes, she was almost surprised to not find him standing there. When she looked over at Arya, it seemed as though she was thinking the same thing.

"Robb is here." Her sister whispered. Sansa nodded, understanding perfectly what she meant.

"I don't want to leave this godswood." The orange haired lady muttered after a moment of silence. Arya nodded in agreement.

"Nor do I." For the rest of their lives, neither of the sisters Stark could put the sensation that they experienced into words. What happened that day in the godswood that made the sisters feel the immense presence of their brother would remain a mystery to each of them for the rest of time.

But what happened to Catelyn Bolton late that night would not remain a mystery. In fact, it would be known throughout the entirety of Storm's End quite quickly that someone had attacked the eldest daughter of Sansa Maegyr. But what remained a mystery was exactly what happened to the poor girl.

Someone had raped her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I have spent the past couple days writing this chapter, and I'm excited about where this story is going and about what events from the past will come back to haunt what characters. I'm trying hard not to make any parallels between the original Rhaegar/Lyanna and my original characters Rhaegar/Lyanna, and for those who are wondering about Lya and if she'll get to make a choice on marriage, here is your answer: She will become betrothed to Rhaegar, but as we all know, in Westeros betrothals do not always end in marriage;) Also I have lots in store for all these different characters. I'm trying to set up as much conflict in as many different places as possible. I did lots of preparation for this work, and I'm so excited to put it all up! Thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a nice comment. Bye bye!


	5. Talisa/Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Talisa finds Catelyn, Sansa finds out about Catelyn, and Arya begins to investigate.

_TALISA_

Talisa was in her chambers just after supper, reading about the extensive history of the Night's Watch when she heard the distant sobbing coming through the open window from outside. She recognized those sobs. They belonged to Cat.

She didn't even bother to throw a cloak on to cover her night clothes before she was racing down the servants staircase to the fields where she spotted her orange haired sister being cradled on the ground by a man with auburn curls and blue eyes. Cat's hair was a mess of what was once a neatly and carefully done braid. Her ivory dress had been ripped and torn and she was attempting to cover the top half of her body with the tattered cloth. An awful looking bruise had begun to form on the left side of her jaw, and on her left cheekbone, there was a small scrape. She was sobbing loudly against the man's shoulder and Talisa's heart ached for her sister who had clearly been attacked. She ran towards her orange haired sister and dropped to her knees before Cat's blue eyes landed on her and she threw her arms around her, now sobbing into her sister's chest.

"Shh, shh. _Iksan kesīr, iksan kesīr._ " (I'm here, I'm here.) Talisa stroked her hair soothingly before furiously turning her attention to the man with the auburn curls in front of her. "Who are you?" She hissed accusingly. The man shook his head with a concerned expression all over his face.

"I'm Simon Tully. I was coming out from a crowded tavern that my friend Titus Martell dragged me to, and I found her lying on the side of the road, bloodied and sobbing. I asked her where she lived, and she said that she was staying at Storm's End for the tourney. She couldn't walk, so I carried her back here, but it's miles from the tavern and I got tired, so I stopped to rest here for a minute before I would ask where her tent was." He paused. "I wasn't the one who did this to her, I swear." Talisa nodded before examining the bottom half of her sister's body. The bottom of her dress had been ripped and was covered in mud and a a slight bit of blood. Her right ankle was twisted at a bad angle, but the worst sight to see was the mixture of blood and seed dried on the inside of her leg. She had clearly been raped. "Who are _you?_ " He asked, clearly concerned for her sister's wellbeing.

"I'm her sister." He arched his brow as if to say _really?_

"You two look nothing alike." Simon remarked. Talisa rolled her eyes.

"I'm her half sister if you want to be specific. We're bound by our mother's blood. We need to get her to the healers." Simon nodded before standing back up and taking the now quietly crying Cat into his arms with a bit of difficulty. As soon as Talisa stopped making noise, Cat looked around in the dark frantically.

" _Skoriot iksis ñuha hāedar?_ " (Where is my little sister?) Talisa darted to Simon's right, where Cat's head was facing and gently stroked one of her hands that were grasped onto his neck.

" _Iksan kesīr, mandia. Kesan daor henujagon ao."_ (I'm right here, sister. I won't leave you.) Cat nodded her head and relaxed in his arms as they neared the castle. Simon furrowed his brow.

"What language is that?" The Volantene lady turned her eyes back to the Tully. 

"Valyrian." Simon nodded his head, but still looked clearly perplexed. 

"How do you know Valyrian?" He asked. They were almost at the gates. 

"We're from Volantis where everyone speaks the common tongue and Valyrian fluently." They arrived at the already open gates of Storm's End and were stopped by the castle guard. One of them hurried towards them and looked at the delirious Cat, still being held in Simon Tully's arms. He then turned to Talisa, worry in his eyes. She recognized the sigil on his armor as that of house Mormont; a Northerner. 

"My lady, what has happened to lady Catelyn?" The Volantene lady felt tears stinging her eyes as she shook her head. 

"We need to get her to Maester Willem." Talisa choked out. The guard nodded before he took Cat into his arms, and stood before her, almost as if he were waiting for something. " _NOW!_ " She yelled and hurried alongside the guard holding her sister towards the Maester's tower. 

Maester Willem, the acting Maester at Storm's End, was examining Cat when Sansa Maegyr burst through the doors. She had thrown on a black robe over her night clothes. Her stoic face crumbled the moment her blue eyes fell on her firstborn daughter, lying unconscious, beaten, and bloodied on the table, and she ran to her side and grasped her hand. She began to stroke her hair, and a tear travelled down her cheek. She then looked up at Talisa, who was standing on the other side of the table. 

"Who did this to her?" She croaked through tears, the anger in her voice apparent. Talisa simply shook her head. 

"If I knew, they would be dead." Sansa nodded her head and turned her attention back to her firstborn, then turning to the maester. 

"How hurt is she? Why isn't she awake?" Sansa pressed before Maester Willem placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. 

"Worry not, lady Maegyr. Her heartbeat is perfectly stable, her breathing has regulated itself, and she's only asleep because I gave her milk of the poppy. She twisted her ankle, but I got it back into place, and it should heal in due time." He spoke the words soothingly and Sansa nodded her head, still clutching Cat's hand and gently petting her hair. "I'll be sure to give her moon tea in the morning." He added quietly. Sansa's brows furrowed before she swallowed and hesitant fear spread across her face. 

"Why would she need moon tea?" The maester inhaled sharply before looking down and then back up at her orange haired mother. 

"I know that this is going to be difficult to hear as Catelyn's mother, but there is no easy way to say this. After examining her, I am sorry to say that without a doubt, your daughter was raped." Sansa's entire demeanor seemed to crumble as she shook her head in denial, tears pouring down her face. 

"By the gods tell me this isn't true." She croaked gravely as she shook her head while the tears came faster and faster. 

"I wish that I were able, my lady. I extend my deepest of condolences." Sansa shook her head and cradled her unconscious daughter in her arms. 

" _NO!_ " She screeched and continued to sob over her ravished child. "I swore that I would protect her! On the day she was born I vowed that I would never let her be hurt the way that her father hurt me." She let out a heart wrenching sob as Talisa's blue eyes widened in shock. _Did Cat's father hurt mother?_ "I've failed Catelyn as her mother." She continued to cradle her eldest child close to her breast, crying all the while. 

"My lady, I do sincerely apologize for the events that have taken place tonight. If you wish to stay with your daughter, I can arrange for a bed to be prepared here. I'm afraid that I will have to keep lady Catelyn here overnight, in the event that anything should go wrong." Maester Willem spoke calmly and soothingly. Sansa nodded, her expression broken and upset before she turned to her third born child. 

"Go back to your chambers, Talisa. I'll join you all to break fast in the morning." Talisa nodded as her mother walked over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before she turned to Maester Willem. "Arrange for a bed to be prepared for myself and call for guards to escort my daughter back to her chambers." The maester nodded as Sansa walked back over to Cat and pulled up a stool to sit on beside her place on the table. Talisa normally would have argued and said that she was perfectly fine to walk back on her own, but after the events that had taken place that night, she wasn't going to resist. 

"What should I tell Lyna if she asks about Cat?" She asked. Her mother sighed as she took her firstborn's hand. 

"Tell her that she is not well, but if she directly asks if she was attacked, do not deny her the truth." Talisa nodded before two guards escorted her out of the room and out of the maester's tower. 

"My lady!" Simon Tully called after Talisa and was stopped by one of the guards before he could reach her. She put up a hand and the guard let him go. 

"What do you want?" She asked sleepily. Simon pursed his lips as he wrung his hands. 

"Is she going to be alright?" Talisa nodded and the Tully sighed in relief. 

"Thank you for helping her. Not many people would have done that for a complete stranger." She thanked him sincerely and he gave a halfhearted smile. 

"My father, Lord Edmure Tully, always taught me that it can often be rewarding to help the helpless. I only pray that your sister makes a quick and easy recovery." He looked to the ground before looking back up. "What did you say your name was, my lady?" She gave a fleeting polite smile before responding. 

"Talisa Maegyr. My older sister is lady Catelyn Bolton, daughter of lady Sansa Maegyr." Simon nodded. 

"That would explain the orange hair. Your grandmother was a Tully, my aunt Catelyn, and your sister's namesake. I'm proud to have helped her and to have met you both. Goodnight, lady Talisa." She gave a single nod. 

"Goodnight, lord Simon." The Tully returned the nod before heading out to the tent fields as Talisa and the Baratheon guards continued towards the keep. Once they had seen her safely into her chambers, she fell down onto her bed and felt tears prickling her blue eyes. It was very late into the night, but she heard the sheets rustle and a body snuggled up against her. Talisa turned to see her younger sister, Celyna, lying next to her. 

"What happened to Cat?" The older sister sighed before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her sister's ear. 

"She fell ill. She and mother are staying in the maester's tower tonight." Talisa whispered calmly. Celyna shook her head. 

"What _really_ happened to Cat?" The older sister felt a tear drop from her eyes. 

"She was raped." The younger sister gasped before resting her head underneath the crook of Talisa's jaw. 

"When we find out who did that, we'll have them killed." Talisa nodded. 

"We will hunt him. We will find him. And then, sister, yes. We will kill him." Talisa dreamt of Volantis that night. She dreamt of safety, comfort and home, but when she woke the next morning she knew that she was in no such place. 

_ARYA_

Word of her niece's rape and beating spread overnight. Everyone was eating breakfast silently, and everyone stood when Sansa entered the great hall. Her face was pale, her hair a mess, there were dark bags underneath her eyes, and she looked broken. 

"Good morning, mother." Her eldest son choked out. She sat down where she had sat in mornings prior: One spot down from him. She left Cat's usual spot open. 

"Good morning, Eddard." She uttered in response. She had taken one bite of her food before she slammed her fork down on the table and stood. "I've decided that I'm entirely not hungry." Arya stood and ran to her sister's side. 

"Let's take a walk, shall we?" Sansa took a quick scan around the room before nodding. They exited the great hall, arm in arm, before they made their way to the only place where they wouldn't be bothered: The godswood. Sansa crumpled into Arya's arms the moment that they got away from all of the people milling about. "Shh, shh. It's going to be alright, Sansa." Her orange haired sister shook her head. 

"It's not going to be alright, Arya! Last night, my firstborn was attacked and _raped!_ My poor girl is too afraid to speak to anyone but myself or one of her sisters! At least when I was raped by Ramsay, I had known cruelty and I had seen violence. But she was innocent! She was entirely innocent, she's never known anything but peace. Until last night, when she decided to go out and hear the minstrels sing their songs among the smallfolk, someone in the tavern saw her and decided that she was his to ruin, his to ravish, his to _rape_. My daughter!" Arya held her sobbing older sister in her arms as she gazed upon the ancient face of the weirwood tree before them. 

"When we find out who did this to your daughter and my niece, I swear it by the old gods of the forest that I will see them suffer. We will get justice for your daughter. We will protect our children from anyone who wants to bring them harm. And we will slaughter those who merely try." Arya's words of fury seemed to give Sansa strength as she pulled herself away from her sister's breast, wiped her tears, and looked upon that ancient face. 

"Do you still have Needle?" The orange haired lady asked before lady Baratheon nodded her head. "I hope you still know how to use it." Arya turned to her sister. 

"We will avenge the rape of Cat. We will make whoever did those vile things to her wish that he had never been born. But first, we must start asking questions. She wasn't the only person out on the town that night." Sansa cocked her head to the side. 

"Who should we start with?" Arya turned back to the gnarled face. 

"The man who she was with when Talisa found her: Simon Tully." The sisters stood in unison before starting out to find the second born son of Edmure and Roslin Tully. They had many questions to ask him, and he would readily provide answers or answer to Arya's Needle. 

On their way out of the godswood and towards the keep where they would retrieve her sword, they heard a low growl before Nymeria trotted up and Arya pet her neck. 

"Welcome back, girl." With the direwolf by their sides, they headed off to the fields of tents and found one with the Tully sigil, where they found Simon walking out. Arya's heart nearly stopped beating when she saw him dressed in his leathers. She turned to face Sansa and knew that she was thinking the exact same thing. 

"Just because he looks like Robb doesn't make him innocent." Sansa whispered. Arya nodded before she called out his name. The Tully who resembled their dead brother turned to find the source of the voice that had called his name before his blue eyes landed on Sansa and Arya. 

"My ladies, how might I help you?" The orange haired lady grabbed him firmly by the arm and steered him towards a quiet and private grove of trees. 

"Last night you carried my daughter home from where she was raped and beaten. We're going to need you to tell us everything that you know about the incident, and if you lie to us, cousin, I will not hesitate to allow my sister to set Nymeria on you. Understood?" Simon gulped as he nodded. 

"Before I start, you should know that I had a few glasses of wine before I left the tavern, so my memories are a bit hazy." Sansa nodded her head and crossed her arms. 

"When did you first see Cat? Had she already been ravished?" Arya pressed as her older sister winced at the word _ravished_. 

"When I first saw her, she was laughing and talking with one of the serving girls inside the tavern. She had thick brown hair down to her hips and big brown eyes, I never learned her name though. Then, an hour or so later, I decided that I was finished with the rowdy tavern scene and I stepped outside to get some air. That's when I saw her, screaming and sobbing on the side of the road. I didn't think to ask who had attacked her, only how to get her back to safety. She said she was staying at Storm's End, so I carried her there, but it was a few miles walk and my arms were tired, so I stopped for a bit. Catelyn started screaming and sobbing again, and that's when Talisa found me. I was out with Titus Martell, a close friend of mine. I was fostered at Sunspear, we grew up together. I don't remember many people who were there as well, just Alyn Tarly, Titus Martell, Vince Arryn, and this sellsword named Kamon from Braavos." Arya nodded at her cousin before looking to her older sister who looked back to their cousin. 

"And where was this tavern? The name of it?" Sansa pressed and the Tully scratched his head. 

"It was in the town, and I don't remember what it was called, I apologize. But I believe the man who owns the tavern has dark hair and brown eyes. The serving girl who was talking to lady Catelyn was his daughter." Sansa nodded. 

"Thank you, cousin. That is all that we require from you at the moment. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay." Lady Baratheon spoke the words politely before Simon nodded to both of them and left back for his tent. 

"Where do we go from here?" Lady Maegyr asked once their cousin had gone out of ear shot. 

"We start with the person that will be the hardest to catch once he has left: The sellsword named Kamon. We have to go to that tavern." The younger sister stated before her older sister nodded. They stood and began walking towards the castle to prepare for their nights' journey. An hour later, Arya had armed herself with three knives and Needle, and she and Sansa had dressed as smallfolk, preparing to find the Braavosi sellsword who may have ravished her niece. 

"When was the last time you dressed as if you were one of the smallfolk?" Sansa asked as she tucked her orange hair into place beneath her cloak's hood. 

"Four months ago Gendry and I grew tired of being lord and lady Baratheon of Storm's End, and we revisited the days of Gendry the bastard and Arry the orphan. We snuck out of the castle on horseback and went into town. We were having such a pleasant time until we found Ryle waking drunk out of a brothel. That ended our night out on the town." Arya chuckled at the memory as she caught the hint of a smile gracing her sister's lips. 

They then went to the lord's chambers and told Gendry of their plans. He insisted that they bring two disguised guards at the very least for protection. When Arya showed him her concealed weapons, he calmed and wished them well on their way. 

Night had just fallen and Arya had a knife strapped to the inside of her forearm, one tucked in the sheath around her calf, and one on the belt at her hip next to Needle. Sansa was dressed modestly as the two sisters snuck out to the town on horseback. Arya began to wonder that if their childhood had not been taken from them, would they have done this before as girls under different circumstances? She looked to her older sister as they trotted their horses into the town, and she thanked the gods that their children had been given a childhood. And she thanked the gods for giving her the strength to take out whoever stole that innocence from her niece. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this update has taken so long, I've recently had some medical issues and I've had to visit the ER, so writing this has taken much longer than expected, thank you all for sticking around and being so patient! The next chapter should be up within the next week:) Thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye:)


	6. Cat/Jaqen/Kamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Catelyn laments and has two visitors, Jaqen remembers, and Kamon wishes he had never been seen at the tavern the night of Catelyn's rape.

_CAT_

Everything hurt.

Not necessarily physically (although her twisted ankle certainly wasn't making things pleasant), so much as in her mind. Cat was counting the minutes that she wasn't crying, the moments of blissful forgetfulness where the events of the previous night were not haunting her. Every time that she thought she might laugh at her sisters' attempts to cheer her, without fail she would remember the attack and would be driven back to the pathetic state of sobbing and screaming.

 _Maybe my tears will wash out the memories._ She thought bitterly. It was a new sort of emotion for her. Bitterness was never something that she really felt before, as she had lived her life free from harm. The only danger that had ever faced her was when she and Talisa would jump from the tops of large waterfalls in the Rhoyne as girls, or if the elephant she rode through the streets was untrained. But apart from little thrills to make her heart beat a little faster, she had never faced true danger until the night before. Life had been pleasant and happy, but it had never been dangerous. She had never been harmed more than scraped knees and elbows, or cruel words from Ned. She had never felt bitter towards anyone, as no one had ever harmed her enough to cause her to feel resentment.

So she lay there, propped up on pillows, watching the day turn into night through the window, the only company being the guards that stood outside her door. She turned Celyna away, not wanting her sister to see her in that state of pathetic, bitter fear. Talisa had joined her for a few hours after breakfast, but around midday, Cat told her to leave as well. It was dark out when the heavy oak door to the guest room in the Maester's tower creaked open. She scooted up against the pillows to prop herself up further on the bed when a man with auburn curls and bright blue eyes entered the room. He was smiling politely at her, and she couldn't help but think about how pathetic she must look. She had bathed in the morning while the others were at breakfast and was in a clean, cream colored night dress that she brought with her from Volantis. She pulled the blankets up closer to her chest and eyed the stranger oddly. She couldn't quite place where she knew him from, but his face was definitely familiar.

"Who are you?" Cat asked meekly. The man looked confused for a moment before it seemed to hit him that they were strangers.

"I beg pardon, lady Catelyn, I'm Simon Tully. I carried you back here last night, after... the..." He struggled fruitlessly to find a way to politely phrase the words.

"After I was raped?" She stated. He gulped and nodded his head.

"Yes. After you were raped." There was a heavy silence as the Tully paused and Catelyn began to regret her bluntness. "I just wanted to see if you were doing alright, my lady." She smiled politely and gave a single nod.

"I'm doing as well as anyone could be given the circumstances. How are you doing, my lord?" He smiled, looking almost relieved, as he ran a hand through his auburn curls and approached her, pulling up a stool. He stopped halfway through pulling the stool to her bed and locked his eyes on hers.

"Would you mind if I stay a little while? I just thought that you must not have much company, and I've been trying not to spend too much time with my family, as that always ends in arguments." He asked, still awkwardly with bent knees, holding the stool at a slanted angle in front of him. Cat gave two small nods and he smiled as he finished pulling the tall stool up to her bedside. "How is your ankle feeling, my lady?" She almost let out a bitter laugh as she gestured to her bruised and swollen foot elevated on a pillow at the end of her bed.

"Not too well, lord Simon, if that even needed saying." He nodded once as if in agreement before reaching into a satchel that he had hanging from his left shoulder across his torso.

"Your sister, Talisa gave this to me to give to you." He handed her a brown leather bound book with aged and yellowing pages entitled _The Tales of Dunk and Egg_. It was the book that she had been reading the day before with Talisa before Ned came in and upset her.

"Thank you." She whispered. He grinned at her, as if to say _you're welcome_ and she gave a small and fleeting smile in return. He then stood, walked over to the writing desk against the wall near her bed, and began to sketch something on the paper with what looked like a little neat stick. "What's that you're drawing with?" He looked up at her and grinned again.

"It's called a pencil. It's got obsidian in the middle of a piece of wood and it works better than ink. The maesters in the citadel use it more often than they might a quill and ink. It's also easier to draw with." He then turned his attention back to the sketch he was working on on the little writing block sitting on his lap.

"What are you drawing?" He looked back up at her with a light smile.

"I'm drawing the view from my chambers in Subspear. You see, I was fostered at Sunspear in Dorne with the Martells, but in the last year, I've been living at Riverrun. My older brother, Hoster, has fallen ill and they wanted make sure that if he dies, I will know the castle and the people of the riverlands well enough to rule them. I miss the sand hills and the water gardens, so I'm drawing the view that I had from my memory." Simon then turned his attention back to his drawing and continued to sketch. Cat nodded as she hugged the book closer to her chest and shifted her position so she wasn't quite so sore. The door then creaked open and the last person that Cat expected to see came in: Her brother, Eddard Maegyr. Simon looked up at the Volantene, and then back to the orange haired Bolton.

"Do you know this man, my lady?" He asked before Ned walked up to the side of his half sister's bed opposite from the Tully.

"I'm her brother, of course she knows me." He spoke the words with his usual respectfully calm voice, yet he managed to sound threatening nonetheless.

"Apologies, my lord." He put his sketching paper and pencil back into his satchel before bowing to Ned. "My lady." He then bowed to Cat before turning and leaving the room. Once he was gone, Cat couldn't manage to bring her gaze up to meet Ned's.

"You forgot the half." She whispered, her voice tinged with sarcasm. She couldn't see it, but he knew that he was rolling his ebony eyes.

"And? It never bothered you before whenever I would leave it out." He walked over to the side of the bed where Simon had been sitting and he looked at her with an unreadable expression.

" _Kessa, yn ziry jenitis ao._ " (Yes, but it bothered you.) She switched to Valyrian, a tactic that she often used to try and make herself seem more Volantene. She knew that she had Westerosi blood, but she had been raised in Volantis among her Volantene siblings. Her heart and her mind were Volantene, even if her blood was not. Ned looked down at his hands where his fingertips were just barely touching the bedsheets before looking into her river blue eyes. She always found it hard to make direct eye contact with her oldest brother, but not in that moment. His obsidian eyes held an emotion that she had never seen directed towards her in the past: Guilt.

" _Jaelan ivestragon vaoreznuni._ " (I want to say sorry.) He spoke the words clearly and softly. She felt tears of emotion begin to prickle her eyes. Ned had never apologized for his cruel words or actions, at least not on his own free will. " _Nyeke pendagon kesā sagon ȳgha ondoso aōla. Nyke daor emagon geptot._." (I thought you would be safe by yourself. I should not have left.) His voice was stoic and unwavering, but Cat could hear the truth in his words. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and continued to stare into his deep, black eyes.

" _Bisa iksis daor kesrio syt hen ao, lēkia._ " (This is not your fault, brother.) She said as she gestured to herself. He then sat down on the stool ms leaned forward, his obsidian eyes filled with intent.

" _Qilōni iksis?_ " (Who's is?) The memory of her attack hit her once more. _Walking out of the tavern. An eerily familiar drunken laugh. Being pushed to the ground. A sharp and throbbing pain in her ankle. Struggling. Kicking. Hitting. A rag stuffed in her mouth. Muffled screams. A man turning her on her stomach. Her dress ripping. Flesh on flesh. A man entering her for the first time. Tears pouring down her face. Grabbing a pointed rock. Managing to get a gash on his shoulder. The night shadows hiding his face. Him muttering curses. Him hitting her. And finally, him leaving._ She shook herself from the memory and looked back at her brother.

"I never saw his face. It was dark out, but he had an accent. I can't place where from. I'm sorry." Ned got a distant and determined look in his eyes.

"Don't be, Catelyn. Don't be." With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him, and leaving her alone once more to be consumed by darkness and the peace of slumber.

_JAQEN_

He tried to forget and almost convinced the ship's captain to head to Braavos instead of Lys. He drank his forgetting drink, yet the startling grey stare of his daughter appeared before his eyes every time they closed, their strong gaze burned into his memory, permanently now. How long had it been since he had last seen those eyes? It must have been thirty years now. It wasn't as if he were counting...

_Zara was coming home from selling lemons, clementines, and berries out in the streets. She was wearing a new dress today, so it must have been a good day on the market. The new dress was the same blush pink color as the little flowers tucked into the folds of her silvery-blonde, waist length braid. It had no sleeves, and it hung down to her ankles loosely around her svelte body. Venko and Qollee were singing upstairs in the children's bedroom. Soon, Byr would be old enough to go singing with the mummers during the day with his older brothers. Pana, however, was only seven, and it would be seven more years before they would let her go singing. Jaqen was finishing the shoes that would be sold for plenty of money. Maybe when he sold them, his sons wouldn't have to sing on the streets with the mummers. When he would sell the shoes, he would celebrate on a night out on the town with his friends..._

He shook his head and stepped out onto the bow of the ship. He wasn't wearing another face. Perhaps he was done with that life of mindlessly worshipping death. He knew that no one could hide from the many faced god, but he was ready to accept whatever fate was in store for him. He had done enough harm to those that he loved, and those that he didn't. He only needed to see Pana's face once more. Then he would be at peace.

As he stood at the bow of the ship. feeling the salty wind on his face, he felt with a deep rooted certainty that Pana was waiting for him, still in Lys, and perhaps she spent her days singing on the streets...

_KAMON_

The tavern was always nice.

Being here for the tourney meant that he could make good coin for betting. And there was always a stable boy who could get the horse you were betting against a little bit injured for the jousts.

Kamon had a beautiful whore sitting on his knee, her sheer dress leaving little to the imagination, making him more excited about what he was in for as soon as he finished his ale. He was downing the last of the bitter tasting drink, the foam sticking to his short whiskers above his lip, when he heard a sultry voice with a foreign accent coming from behind him.

"Hello, darling. What's your name?" Kamon turned around to see a young woman with olive skin, long, silky, black hair that was braided down to her waist, and striking river blue eyes standing behind his seat. She wore a loose fitted grey shift that hung down to her ankles, but had a low enough neckline that he could see that her tits were a rarely good pair. Definitely better than the two on the whore that was sitting on his lap. Without taking his eyes off of the blue eyed girl, he tapped the leg of the whore on his knee, signaling for her to get up and leave, which she did with a huff of insult. He motioned to the chair next to him for her to sit, where she seated herself slowly.

"My name's Kamon. What about you, love?" The girl's face turned to an expression of pride and almost anger, as she stood.

"My name is Sepār. Why don't we go someplace more private, yes?" The Braavosi nearly fell out of his seat scrambling to stand up and walk after the smirking foreign whore. He paid the man who ran the tavern two gold dragons for a room with a featherbed and stumbled into the room after her. As soon as the door was shut, her entire demeanor changed. She was no longer sultry and enticing, she was dangerous and angry, holding a knife to his throats that wasn't there a moment before. His hands went up in the air as he felt his heart stop and his mind racing with questions.

"If you speak out of turn, I open your throat and let your blood pour like a river. Understand?" The sellsword swallowed nervously as he nodded his head, wishing that he hadn't swallowed, as it had pushed his throat up against the knife further. She tilted her head upwards, satisfied. "Good." She paused before continuing on. "Last night, a young woman with orange hair and blue eyes came into this tavern a maid and when she returned home, she had been raped. This young woman is my sister. A man who I trust placed you here last night. What do you know about my sister's rape? And if you lie, your life is over." Kamon nodded slowly and thought back to the night before. He remembered the girl with the hair of fire. She had the same eyes as the girl who was holding the knife to his throat.

"I remember her. She came in with a tall man that had black curls, black eyes, and olive skin, not unlike yourself, but he left after a few minutes. It looked like they had gotten into some sort of argument. She was talking to another man. He had dark hair, but I never saw his face. He left shortly after she did. That's all I know, I swear it." The girl narrowed her eyes and for a moment, Kamon thought his life was over, despite the fact that he had told the truth, before the door swung open and the girl flinched in surprise. Standing in the doorway was a woman who looked exactly like the orange haired beauty that he had seen the night before, only older, next to a shorter woman with long, dark hair and striking grey eyes. The shorter woman had a skinny sword half out of its sheath, and the two women looked at Sepār with shock.

"Mother? Aunt Arya? What are you doing here?" The girl asked as she sheathed her blade. Kamon's hands flew to his neck as he stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief.

"We could ask the same of you Talisa!" The orange haired woman said, striding into the room quickly before holding the girl who was apparently _not_ Sepār, but Talisa, closely to her chest. The dark haired short woman turned to Kamon, her skinny needle of a sword drawn and the tip pointed at his chest.

"Is this him, Tal? The sellsword?" The woman who Kamon figured was Aunt Arya asked without taking her grey eyes off of him. Talisa nodded.

"I swear, I had nothing to do with the young woman's rape. I already answered your nieces' questions. I saw her come in with a man that had black curls and olive skin, before he left before she started speaking with a man that had dark hair, but I never saw his face." Arya paused and looked to Talisa to see the truth of his words. Her niece gave a single nod before Arya sheathed her sword. She then turned to Talisa, removing her cloak in one swift motion, and placed it around her shoulders, for modesty. Something seemed familiar about the name Arya, and he was racking his slightly drunken mind for the answer when it hit him, leaving him feeling like the worlds biggest fool.

"Are you lady Arya Baratheon?" The dark haired aunt, now identified as the Lone Wolf, lady Arya Baratheon of house Stark, gave a single nod before she gave a look of terror. Kamon looked around him but saw nothing that might cause her to fear, and when he looked back, the skinny sword was at his chest once more.

"Arya!" The orange haired woman, who could only be Sansa Maegyr of house Stark, exclaimed. Lady Baratheon didn't seem to hear her sister.

"You're from Braavos, aren't you? Did they send you? ARE YOU HERE TO KILL MY CHILDREN? YOU _WON'T_ GET MY FAMILY!" Kamon didn't understand what was happening, and he wasn't sure that he was ever going to find out, considering the fact that the sword at the tip of his chest had broken the skin, and there was nothing stopping lady Baratheon from pushing that sword into his chest even further.

"I'm from Braavos, but I don't know who you're talking about! I'm not here to kill your children, I swear it, I swear it!" He had his hands in the air, his heart was racing, and he was too drunk for this.

"Liar!" Arya grabbed at his face and Sansa cried out.

" _ARYA!_ " Lady Maegyr screamed. Lady Baratheon stepped back and sheathed her sword. Her grey eyes were fixed on the ground now. There was a long pause before she looked back up at Kamon.

"I apologize. I see now that you are not who I thought you were. _Valar Morghulis._ " He then brought two fingers up to his forehead with a slight nod of respect. He now understood that she was involved with the Faceless Men. If she had thought him to be one, than her fear was understood.

" _Valar dohaeris._ " And with that, the three women were on their way.

Over the course of that night, Kamon was interrogated by four more people regarding the rape of Catelyn Bolton: lord Edward Maegyr, Catelyn's half brother, lady Meera Stark, Catelyn's aunt by marriage, lady Brienne of Tarth, a former sworn sword to Catelyn's mother, grandmother, and the king, and last but not least, the king himself, his grace Jon Targaryen, first of his name. As he lay in his featherbed that night, he wished that he had as many people who cared so fiercely about him as much as lady Catelyn Bolton did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, an explanation for this late update is needed. My family and I recently switched networks, and that involved getting new phones. I write all these chapters in the notes section of my phone, and during the transfer of data from my old phone to my new one, I lost my notes, thus losing this chapter. So I had to rewrite it entirely from scratch, which is why it has taken so long. Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding! Also, the name "Sepār" means "Justice" in Valyrian:) Thank you so much for reading, and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye!


	7. Lyanna/Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lyanna embarrasses her two oldest brothers, talks to her Stark cousin, has a tall with the prince, then with her father, and there is exciting news from the royal family.

_LYANNA_

The prince didn't talk to her anymore. For the past three days, to be exact. During breakfast, he wouldn't look her in the eye, and whenever they ran into each other on the castle grounds, he would get all red in the face, mutter an excuse about having to leave for someplace, and then hurry off. It was leaving her frustrated and confused, so she decided to confront Jon and Ryle about Rhaegar's avoidance. Her two oldest brothers were in the training yard with the older Tully sons, Hoster and Simon, the heir to the Vale, Vince Arryn, and the older Martell boy, Titus. She strode into the yard with her hands on her hips and her chin up high, walking right up to her oldest brothers.

"Alright, which one of you little cunts did it?" Jon and Ryle turned their attention away from Simon and Titus sparring to face their sister. They both had their arms crossed over their chests casually, with nonchalant grins on their faces.

"Did what?" Ryle asked innocently. Lyanna rolled her eyes and walked up closer.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Ryle. One of my brothers did it. And I know it wasn't Tallond, so don't feed me shit and expect me to chew." The brothers looked taken aback. The other spectators standing around with them stopped watching the Tully and the Martell fight to watch the youngest Baratheon quarrel with her brothers.

"We don't know what you're talking about, Lya." Jon said, seeming genuinely confused. He was always the better liar compared to their two other brothers.

"Okay, have it your way. You won't tell me which one of you little shits threatened him, I won't keep your little secret about the yellow wine." Jon and Ryle's blue eyes went wide with fear, and the corners of her lips quirked up with satisfaction.

"Listen, Lya, we don't have any fucking clue what you're talking about!" Ryle exclaimed, panicked.

"Truly, listen to Ryle! We have no fucking idea what in the seven hells you're talking about!" Jon stammered hastily. Lya could barely believe her brothers in this moment. Those cunts.

"No idea? Seven hells! Fine then." Lyanna then walked past her brothers to face the small crowd of male heirs that were all watching her. "Were any of you aware of the fact that not even three months ago, my two oldest brothers, Jon and Ryle Baratheon, got so drunk that they drank cow piss out of goblets and called it yellow wine?" She turned back to her brothers, grinning smugly as they hid their faces behind their hands. "Have a good day, brothers." She chirped before she strutted away happily.

It was approaching time for the midday meal when she ran into her cousin, lady Jyana Stark, in the library.

"Hello, Jyana." Her green eyed cousin looked up from her book and smiled.

"Lyanna, always a pleasure!" Jyana rose from her seat on one of the low couches and hugged her cousin gently before the youngest Baratheon smoothed her maroon gown and seated herself in the middle of the couch while the Stark took the corner closest to the door.

"What are you reading?" Lyanna asked before the Stark held up the book so her cousin could see the title. " _The Great Lords and Kings of House Stark._ Interesting. Anyone that interests you in particular?" Jyana nodded.

"Our uncle, Robb Stark. The Young Wolf, king in the North, Lord of Winterfell, and slain along with his mother and wife during the Red Wedding." Lyanna had heard the songs before. She knew that her uncle had been betrayed and killed at the same massacre where her grandmother and marital aunt had been murdered. Her aunt Sansa had given birth to twin boys, her cousins, eleven years ago, and she named one of them Robb, after her fallen brother. The other she named Rickon, after her other fallen brother.

"Does your father ever talk about our uncles?" Jyana nodded with a smile.

"All the time. Jojen and I were raised on stories of fiery Rickon and loyal Robb." Lyanna was slightly surprised. Her mother never spoke of her fallen uncles, and rarely spoke of her fallen parents. "My mother used to tell me stories of when she and her brother lived at Greywater Watch with my grandfather and my namesake, my grandmother. She and her brother left their home so that they could go to Winterfell, but then it was sacked by the Greyjoys and destroyed by the Boltons. My mother and uncle ran and hid out beyond the wall with my father, our uncle Rickon, and their protectors, a simpleton stableboy named Hodor, and a Wildling loyal to the Starks named Osha. They stayed there for a long time. But Osha and Rickon made the mistake of going to seek refuge with the Umbers who turned them in to Ramsay Bolton. He killed Osha and then, at the legendary Battle of the Bastards, he killed Rickon as well. And well," Jyana paused. "You've heard the songs about how Ramsay died. I don't need to say it." Despite her mother's best efforts to prevent it, Lyanna _had_ heard the songs about her aunt Sansa. How she had been publicly humiliated and abused in King's Landing, how she was eventually married off to the legitimized bastard, Ramsay Bolton, and how he brutalized and raped her for a year before she managed to escape with the broken Theon Greyjoy, and unbeknownst to her at the time, Ramsay's only daughter in her belly. Their cousin, lady Catelyn Bolton, was the last of all the Boltons, and had grown up in Volantis with her seven half siblings. Three nights ago, poor, sweet Cat had been raped outside of a tavern and had sent the whole castle into a search for who could have ravished her. She hadn't provided much information, only that the man who had done it had black hair and an accent. And since she grew up in Volantis, all the Westerosi had accents to her, so it didn't narrow down the search very much. Lyanna decided to break the silence.

"So, Jyana, how is life in Winterfell? I haven't been since I was ten, you must tell me everything." The green eyed Stark smiled at her cousin before she began to speak about her ancestral home.

"Well, now that spring is over and summer has begun, the days have become longer, and we don't get nearly as much snow. Ghost has been slowing down a bit, and we nearly brought him here, but we just don't know where we would put him. A direwolf isn't meant for the kennel, so we couldn't put him there. He doesn't know the lands of Storm's End, and my father feared that he might get lost in the forest. My mother knew that he wouldn't, but the discussion was over as soon as it had begun. Did you know that Ghost used to belong to the king?" Jyana asked. Lya did know that fact, but didn't know why the king ever parted with his white direwolf.

"Do you know why he gave Ghost to uncle Bran?" Jyana grinned at her cousin's question.

"I do. The climate of King's Landing was far too hot for the direwolf, and once my father was of age, he became the official lord of Winterfell. So king Jon was no longer the lord regent and had to go live in the Red Keep with his wife, and shortly thereafter, also his son. It's a funny title, _lord regent._ Normally, there would be a lady regent, but since aunt Sansa was already a lady of Volantis, and you're mother was already a lady of Storm's End, there was no lady Stark to _be_ regent. And since the king is not a Stark in name, he could not be the official lord while a Stark still lived. So he was named the lord regent until my father had his eighteenth nameday. My father formerly had a direwolf named Summer, but he had died years before. The only place for Ghost in King's Landing would be on a sigil, so King Jon gifted Ghost to my father." Lyanna nodded as she heard the door to the library creek open. The two girls turned their heads to see Prince Rhaegar II Targaryen enter the library, his nose stuffed in a book entitled _The War of the Ninepenny Kings_. The Baratheon cleared her throat and the prince looked up, startled. His expression was unreadable as his grey eyes scanned her face. Jyana, sensing the tension in the room, stood and nodded to the price.

"Your grace." She said before passing him to leave the library. Lya stood up, the loose skirts of her purple gown falling around her ankles. Rhaegar turned to leave, but Lyanna ran over to the door and shut it.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me why you won't talk to me anymore." Rhaegar inhaled sharply and closed his book before setting it down on a nearby table.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his low voice smooth, but she could hear the lies in it.

"Don't be stupid. You haven't been talking to me for three days. Why not?" Rhaegar sighed and sat down frigidly on a wooden chair by a table with a cyvasse board on it. He motioned for her to sit on the chair opposite to him, which she took quickly.

"My father has told me that we may be married." Lyanna was shocked. Then she was hurt. She thought of Crispin, her blacksmiths boy and what might happen to them. It was then that she became angry.

"What? But I'm only four and ten, I can't be married! And you! You're only six and ten, that's a bit young, don't you think? And why haven't my parents spoken to me about this?" Rhaegar shook his head an shrugged.

"I do think that we're far too young to be married. Meaning no offense, I don't want to marry you. At least, not now or anytime soon." Lya stood and turned to the prince.

"Thank you for informing me of this, my prince. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go." She then turned and started storming toward's the Lord's chambers. She needed to talk to her father about this.

_GENDRY_

When Jon had been born, it was a bigger blessing than he could have ever hoped for. He was lord of a grand castle, he had the most spectacular wife any man could ever hope for, and he also had an heir. Both he and Arya had agreed to name him Jon, after the man who had brought them together after their five year separation. When Ryle was born, Gendry considered himself the most blessed man in all of Westeros. And when Tallond was born, he was beyond ecstatic to have another son. Throughout Arya's fourth pregnancy, he hoped and prayed for a fourth son. Yet, when the half day of his wife's laboring was over, and he held his only daughter in his arms for the first time, he had felt more bliss than he had with any of his sons. The first thing that he noticed was that Lyanna had Arya's eyes. As she grew older, he saw that she had her nose, her cheeks, her lips, and her jaw as well. He loved and coveted her the most of all his children because she was her mother born again, a living copy of Arya rather than of him.So naturally, the last thing he expected to happen while reminiscing on her birth was for her to come storming into his room, red in the face and screaming.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? WHY IN THE SEVEN HELLS WOULD YOU AGREE TO THIS, FATHER?! I'M ONLY FOUR AND TEN! SEVEN HELLS DON'T YOU— " Gendry cut her off.

" _Lyanna!_ " He shouted, not angrily, only to get her attention. His daughter shut her mouth, but remained fuming. "Would you mind telling me what this great betrayal I've committed is before you continue going off on me about it?" His daughter scowled before crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're marrying me off to the prince!" Gendry rubbed his whiskers and chuckled.

"No, little Lya, it was just a thought that your mother discussed with the king. We're not going to force you to marry him." He wasn't going to tell her _why_ they planned on marrying her to the prince. She didn't need to know that she was in danger, not now. Lyanna relaxed a bit.

"Oh. Well, I don't want to marry the prince anyways." Gendry sat down on the edge of his and Arya's bed and patted the spot next to him. Lya reluctantly sat down.

"You know, Lya, you're a highborn lady. Some day, you're going to have to marry a lord, or perhaps even a prince. We, as highborns, rarely get to choose who we marry." His daughter scoffed.

"What about you and mother? Or Aunt Sansa and Uncle Ambrose? Or Uncle Bran and Aunt Meera? You all chose _your_ spouses!" Gendry swallowed hard.

"Your aunt Sansa did not choose her first husband. Nor her second. She was passed around from lord to lord, viewed as less than human, seen as a key to the North. She had no parents to protect her, only a cousin, a brother, and a sister, all scattered about the world. Once she was reunited with King Jon, she was safe. My point is, she was forced into marriages from unfamiliar people who didn't care for her safety. Your mother and I wouldn't let you anywhere _near_ someone who wouldn't keep you safe and happy. We believe that, after some time and adjustment, the prince might make you happy." Lyanna bit her lip and went to leave the room before Gendry stopped her.

"Lya?" His daughter turned around. "You've heard the songs about your aunt Sansa. You know what happened to her." She nodded. He looked down at his feet before looking back up into his daughter's grey eyes. "They don't sing those songs in Volantis." Lyanna looked puzzled for a moment before it dawned on her.

"Do you mean that Catelyn doesn't know anything about how she came to be?" Gendry shook his head.

"Nor do any of her siblings. And it's going to stay that way, alright?" Lyanna nodded before turning and exiting the lord's chambers. Moments later, Arya entered, wearing a light blue dress with beaded short sleeves and long, loose, silk skirts. He stood.

"Hello, my love." She spoke with a light smile. He opened his arms to his wife, almost like a child might to their mother. She allowed herself to have him fold his arms around her, their difference in height making her almost disappear into his body. "So, Tallond has been seen speaking with lady Lysa Arryn." Gendry groaned.

"Haven't we decided to get him married to Jyana Stark?" Arya nodded into his chest.

"At least Jon has been making good progress with Elaina Lannister. Apparently, little Lya embarrassed him and Ryle in front of a lot of lordlings, yet he's made a quick recovery from that social injury." Gendry chuckled and began to absentmindedly stroke his wife's hair.

"What about Ryle? How is he dealing with the social injury?" Lord Baratheon asked before Lady Baratheon laughed.

"He's been hiding out in what will soon be the tourney fields. He can barely face anyone." Gendry chuckled before letting go of his wife and removing his clothes. He and Arya made love, fairly briefly, before they composed themselves, got dressed again, and went to the great hall for supper. It was there that the absence of the queen was noted. The prince looked nervous, yet the king was all smiles. After the meal, Gendry caught up with Jon before he could enter his shared chambers with Daenerys.

"What's going on? Why do you look so excited?" He asked. Jon grinned widely before responding.

"Dany has been sick all day, and right before dinner, the maester took a look at her." Gendry cocked his head, not understanding. "The queen is with child."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this update took a bit longer than I expected, but it's up now! Thank you all for being so patient, I really appreciate you:) Thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye:)


	8. Daenerys/Ryle/Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daenerys has a dream, Ryle comforts his sister, and Lyanna is taken by surprise.

_DAENERYS_

Her very first pregnancy, with Khal Drogo's son, Daenerys had felt the life growing inside her. The certainty that her son would grow to be powerful and strong was what made it so difficult after he was stillborn. Her first three pregnancies with Jon had ended in messes of blood around twelve weeks in. The fourth ended in a stillborn daughter. Although it stung and hurt each time that a child died within her, each and every time, she knew with an odd certainty what was coming, and that helped her push through it. When she had lain with Jon for this first time since Jorah's death, she could feel his seed taking root just minutes after the event. She knew that it would be a boy, and she knew that he would have her silver hair and Jon's grey eyes. She knew that he would be tall and strong, that he would mount Viserion. She was right. And now that she was pregnant once more, she could feel that same certainty that this would be a healthy and strong child. This one would survive.

Rhaegar was concerned for her, as at that point, only herself, her husband, and the maester knew that she wasn't just ill, but with child. She was dressed in only a red shift when Jon entered the room, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who did you tell?" She asked, knowing that he had already spilled the secret to someone.

"Only Lord Gendry." Dany grinned as she playfully rolled her eyes at her husband.

"I thought we might tell our son first." Jon shrugged walked over to embrace his wife and showered her with kisses. He then dropped to his knees so he was eye level with her belly. He placed his hands on either side of her hips, staring in amazement at her belly, spellbound by the life inside.

"If you care to know, it's going to be a girl." Jon looked up into Dany's purple eyes after her comment.

"How do you know?" She grinned as her husband stood and took her hands.

"While you were eating dinner, I was resting, and I had a dream. I saw a princess with black hair and purple eyes. Now we just need to find a name for our little princess." Jon laughed with joy as he stood and planted a kiss on Dany's lips.

"Visenya, perhaps?" Daenerys nodded.

"I like it. Princess Visenya Targaryen, the second of her name." The queen allowed the name to roll off of her tongue as a smile crept across her lips.

"I'll go and find Rhaegar to tell him the news." The king kissed his wife once more and walked gleefully out of the room to find their son. Daenerys walked over to the bed and placed a protective hand over her abdomen. She could feel the life growing inside her, the little princess coming into existence. She shut her eyes and a vision danced in her mind's eye of a young maid of about six and ten running through the fields of Highgarden in the Reach. She had raven black hair and striking purple eyes, a sharp jaw and full and smiling lips. She was powerful and she was gentle. She was a princess and she was strong. She was Visenya. The queen smiled before she opened her eyes and the vision ended, seeing her son and her husband standing before her.

"Rhaegar, my darling, I have good news." Rhaegar cocked his head to the side.

"What is it, mother?" She beamed at her son as she walked towards him to take both of his hands into hers.

"I'm with child. You're going to be a brother." The prince's grey eyes widened before his face erupted into an enormous grin. Her son hugged her tight and the king laughed with joy.

"Congratulations mother and father! How long has it been?" Jon looked to his wife who shrugged.

"Maester Willem said that I appear to be about eight weeks along." Rhaegar beamed at his mother before looking down at her belly.

"So I assume that you'll start getting quiet large soon." Dany laughed.

"That is a good assumption to make, yes. Now, if you men wouldn't mind, I need to get some rest." Jon and Rhaegar nodded before they turned and left the chambers. Almost as soon as the queen's head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep slumber.

_She was sitting atop her silver, the horse that Khal Drogo had given her as a wedding gift. She saw a woman with hair the color of fire and eyes a striking blue dancing in the grass, surrounded by a ring of flames. She was wearing a lovely silken white dress that had little shape to it and billowed around her. It had billowing and sheer sleeves that clung to her wrists. She stopped dancing when she saw Daenerys. She ran towards her and placed a hand on her abdomen._

_"You've got his baby inside you." She whispered. Her voice sounded wild, untamed, and Northern._

_"Yes." Daenerys said calmly._

_"You're his queen." She wasn't asking, simply stating the fact._

_"And he is my king." The woman looked up into Daenerys's purple eyes._

_"Has he forgotten me?" The queen couldn't place the name of who this woman was. But she had come to her while she was pregnant with Rhaegar as well. This had not been their first encounter._

_"No." Dany whispered. The woman smiled._

_"You know my name." The queen nodded. She could feel it on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be breathed out into the world._

She opened her eyes and the spell was broken.

"Ygritte."

_RYLE_

The first day of the tourney was a good one. Everyone attending was glad to have a distraction from the rumors of his cousin's rape. Ryle had already beaten fourteen anointed knights in an axe throwing competition, his talents second to none that competed. Tallond had beaten seven knights twice his age in one on one sword combat, but in the last round he lost to lady Brienne. Jon had won an archery contest, and Lya had played the part of a young lady quite well, clapping and cheering for her brothers and father, who had won several single combat fights with a war hammer. Yet there was something that was quieter about her. Something off. At the end of the day, there was a large feast to celebrate the days victories. Everyone was in from the fields to eat, and Lya was eating quietly with their Volantene cousin, Celyna Maegyr. Their dark haired and grey eyed cousin was chatting about how she missed her younger siblings, Robb, Rickon, Verrum, and Miryla when Ryle intervened.

"Hello Lya." He said as he planted a kiss on her forehead and sat down on the empty seat next to her. "Hello Celyna, how are you?" The Maegyr smiled warmly with closed lips and gave a polite response that Ryle couldn't quite hear. Lya mumbled a barely audible "Hello" to her brother before taking a small bite of fish.

"This music is absolutely lovely, don't you think?" Celyna said, joining her hands together. Ryle gave a polite nod.

"Yes, the music from the Reach is quite wonderful." He responded. Celyna, seeming to sense that he wanted a moment alone with his sister, stood.

"I'm going to go to the Maester's tower to visit Cat. It was nice to see you, cousins." She then turned around and left the great hall. Ryle turned to Lyanna.

"How are you, little Lya?" She mumbled something that he couldn't hear. "What was that?" Lyanna hunched over even further and repeated the same mumble, slightly louder that time. "I still can't hear you." Suddenly, she put her face in her hands and Ryle saw a tear drop into her plate. He put an arm around her shoulders and stood, steering her away from the loud and rowdy great hall and towards a small, dark, and cramped hallway. He grabbed a candle from the table before they left, so they could see in the hallway. It was their spot to talk, late into the nights, since they were children.

"Tell me what's wrong, Lyanna." He rarely used his sister's full name when speaking to her alone. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and shook her head, forcing a smile.

"It's nothing, truly. I'm just upset about certain things. You have no reason to worry for me, Ryle. I appreciate your concern." Her brother gently placed both hands on her shoulders and studied her stormy grey eyes.

"You're a good liar, you know that?" He whispered. She gave a single chuckle as her older brother wrapped his arms around her body, holding her in a warm and brotherly embrace. "You don't have to tell me right now, but just know that I will always be here to protect you whenever you need me. Alright little Lya?" Lyanna wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and squeezes him tight.

"Thank you, Ryle." They stood there for a moment, a brother and a sister holding each other, and all seemed to be at peace.

_LYANNA_

Crispin Storm was leaving.

Her spectacularly, beautifully, amazingly wonderful blacksmith's boy was leaving Storm's End to go east to Essos.

"But why? Why Braavos of all places?" Lya asked. She had gotten out all of her tears during the feast, and now she was watching Crispin pack his few possessions in a little sack for Braavos in his chambers behind the forge. He threw a tunic into his pack and turned around to face her, walking towards her slowly.

"Because it's where I'm from. My mum was Braavosi, but one day a couple years ago, she got sick and sent a raven to my father who took me in and made me his apprentice. She just died and left behind a enough money for me to start over in Braavos. But I'll make sure to come back and visit." As he said the last sentence, he gently placed his hands on her waist and she stood up on the tips of her toes so their lips could meet. They kissed for a a short moment before the bastard blacksmith pulled away. "Did you know you're mother lived in Braavos for a few years?" Lyanna furrowed her brows.

"What are you talking about?" A dark look passed over Crispin's face. His warm, brown eyes turned cold. His smile disappeared.

"Arya Stark joined the Faceless Men of the free city of Braavos. She pledged her life to the many faced god, yet she broke that unbreakable vow, leaving behind a trail of blood that caused many to seek revenge. Now they have their chance." Lyanna stepped away from Crispin as she noticed the glint of a silver knife in his hand that was not there a moment before.

"Crispin, what are you doing?" She asked with a weak voice as she continued to back away from the bastard blacksmith.

"Many years ago, the god of death was promised a name: Arya Stark. Yet she no longer exists. There is now only Arya Baratheon. Yet Arya Stark had children. And there are many who have paid good money to see her only daughter suffer." He began walking towards her, a dangerous look in his dark eyes. Lyanna felt a knot form in her throat as she reached for her own knife, only to find it missing, realizing that it was the one in Crispin's hand.

"Crispin, you're scaring me." She backed into a wall and felt her vision blur with tears of fear. He then reached forward and held her against the wall with one strong arm.

"Have you any final words, Lyanna Baratheon?" She could feel the hot tears pouring down her face now as she struggled against his powerful grip. A sob escaped her lips as she felt the cold metal of the knife caress her cheek. She barely felt the nick in the hollow of her cheek that it left.

"Please, Crispin, I didn't do anything wrong! Please let me go!" The bastard grinned, as if he enjoyed her struggle and her pain. He began to laugh. Lyanna closed her eyes tight and began to pray to every deity that she had ever known, begging for her life.

"Say goodbye, Lyanna Baratheon." And then,

Nothing.

Lyanna opened her eyes to see Crispin Storm lying on the ground, silently bleeding out from a small stab wound coming from his neck, as her mother, Arya Baratheon, stood watching with a mixture of fury and fear plastered over her face, a skinny little sword half covered in blood in her hand. She used her sleeve to wipe the blood off of her sword before sheathing it and staring into her daughter's grey eyes with an unreadable expression.

"Are you angry with me?" There was a short pause before her mother had wrapped her in a fierce hug.

"I'm not angry with you, little Lya. I could never be angry with you. I love you with all my heart." Lyanna then burst into tears, and sobbed into her mother's shoulder. She cried for Crispin, who was lying beside them, dead, yet she was also crying because of him, feeling relieved that the gods chose to claim his life instead of her own. She cried for the frustration of not knowing who he was, even still not knowing his true purpose after he attempted to kill her. They stood there in each other's arms for a few moments longer, mother and daughter, each thinking themselves the luckiest person alive because they were holding the other in that moment. Eventually, Arya stepped back and put an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Come, my darling. We should get back to the castle." The youngest Baratheon allowed her mother to steer her away from the smithy and towards her chambers in the castle. That night, as Lyanna slept, she dreamt of a man with long, silvery-blonde hair and indigo eyes who gave her blue winter roses and showered kisses over her face. When she woke in the morning, she had one thought in her head that she spoke aloud as she saw her mother and father's faces peering over her bed.

"I want to visit Winterfell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First off, I just want to apologize for the delay in this chapter. I have had such a major writer's block for the past few weeks, and I only just got over it the other day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for reading, and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment. Bye bye:)


	9. Simon/Roslin/Sansa/Kamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Simon takes a walk with Talisa, then Roslin takes a walk with Talisa, then Sansa takes a walk with Talisa, Arya tells Sansa that her children are in danger, and we find out the identity of Catelyn's attacker.

_SIMON_

Simon loved Titus Martell as if he were a brother. Simon's own brothers, Hoster and Isaac, were too far apart in age to him at twenty four and eight to be nearly as close as he and Titus. Simon was nineteen and Titus was seventeen, only two years difference. While he loved his five siblings dearly, he considered the Martells closer to him than his own family. Tyene, the oldest living daughter of Oberyn Martell, had been legitimized by the queen years ago, and she had raised Simon as if he were her own son until he had returned to Riverrun a year before. Bronn, her husband, had never been a very present father, but you could always see how he loved his wife whenever he was with her and their children. He even took her name when they married, saying that he would rather be a part of a house as noble and ancient as house Martell than start his own.

Titus had been under some scrutiny from the Maegyr, Baratheon, Stark, and Targaryen men in the past few days as he matched the description for lady Catelyn's rapist. But Simon was able to vouch for him, able to honestly say that he had been by his side all night. They had inspected Titus's shoulders anyways to make sure that there were no gashes or cuts, as lady Catelyn had said that she had been able to stab her attacker in the shoulder.

It was the morning of the second day of the tourney, and Simon was walking to an archery competition when he ran into lady Talisa Maegyr.

"Lady Talisa!" He called out. She turned around and grinned politely.

"Lord Simon, a pleasure." He approached her and they continued walking together, watching the various competitions going on around them. She was wearing a Dornish style light green dress with the sigil of her house, the two tigers of house Maegyr, sewn into the bodice. Her silky, thick, black hair was in a single braid that hung over her shoulder, with little flowers braided into it. It was a beautiful Volanetene style that was gaining popularity all over Westeros since her mother, lady Sansa, had worn it when she and her husband had come to King's Landing for the celebration of the thirteenth nameday of Prince Rhaegar II Targaryen.

"How has your morning been, my lady?" He asked, a pleasant tone in his voice. She clasped her hands behind her back.

"Well, it started with some good news. Catelyn is now able to walk on her bad ankle with the help of a cane, so that has lifted her spirits a bit." Talisa said cheerfully as they strolled through the fields. "What about you? How has your morning been?" Simon chuckled softly as he thought back to how his morning started.

"Well, I woke up to the sounds of my sisters Athena and Rhea bickering about Rhea's dress. See, Rhea wanted to wear one of the styles from the Vale, as she has been fostered there, but Athena was insisting that she wear one of the styles of the river lands with the Tully trout sigil on it. This argument went on for some time before our mother came into the girl's tent and settled the dispute by giving Rhea a choice: Be dressed in five minutes, or be sent home to Riverrun until the tourney is over. As you may have guessed, Rhea made her decision quite quickly to wear the dress from the river lands." Talisa laughed loudly at Simon's story before responding.

"That reminds me of how Celyna is with our littlest sister, Miryla. She and three of our brothers are back in Volantis with our father. There's actually quite a funny story about my littlest siblings. When we boarded the ship here, Miryla and Verrum, the two youngest of my siblings, tried to sneak on. We almost departed with them on board, until Mother found them in her chambers. That delayed our departure by an hour." Talisa chuckled at the memory as Simon's laughter joined hers.

"My little brother, Isaac, is only eight, so he is back in Riverrun with my littlest sister, Evelyn. The fit he threw when he learned that he wasn't going to the tourney was _monstrous._ I'd never seen Mother so distraught." Simon thought back to Isaac's tantrum, and remembered the little glass trout figurine smashing against the wall as he had walked through the doors to his brother's chambers. As Talisa chuckled softly, Simon's mother, Roslin, approached them. She was a kindhearted woman who was gentle, polite, and very pretty with chocolate brown hair, fair skin, and deep brown eyes. She was younger than her husband by eleven years, and their marriage began rather... _complicated_ , to put it lightly, yet Edmure and Roslin built their marriage strong from the time of their reunion after he was released from the Freys.

"Mother, how are you?" Simon embraced his mother softly as she kissed his cheek before turning to Talisa, a polite smile on her lips.

"I'm doing quite well, thank you. I'm afraid I am not acquainted with you quite yet lady...?" She looked to the Volantene for her to answer, which she did quite quickly.

"Talisa of house Maegyr. It's a pleasure to meet you lady Tully." The two ladies bowed their heads to each other politely before Roslin turned back to her son.

"Simon, your father requests an audience with you." Lady Tully paused before looking at Talisa and forcing a polite smile once more as her son slipped away to find his father. "Lady Talisa, would you like to join me on a walk?" She nodded as Simon looked over his shoulder to see the Volantene lady once more.

_ROSLIN_

Seeing Talisa Maegyr was difficult for Roslin. She had the same name as her aunt, the pregnant Northern queen who was killed by her brother at her father's command. She looked exactly like Talisa Stark had, save for the eyes and the nose. This Talisa had her mother's blue eyes and small, straight nose.

She remembered seeing her namesake for the first time, a treasured Volantene beauty who had stolen the heart of the young wolf, king Robb. She was lovely and had been sporting the smallest swell in her belly on the day of the red wedding, proof of her early pregnancy with Robb's child. Roslin had been jealous of her, as Robb was much closer in age to her than Edmure. Yet her husband had proved to be loyal and loving, even after her family had imprisoned him. The whole red wedding massacre was something that Roslin didn't find out about until her brothers had dragged Edmure from their bedchambers to a prison cell after he had planted his seed in her. In the years following the red wedding, she raised her son quietly, as a Tully. She had always despised her father, yet her brothers had been kind to her growing up. She had felt so betrayed, so stupid for allowing her brothers to fool her into going along with the wedding massacre. Those first few years were the most difficult of her life as she had felt responsible for the deaths of the Starks, as if there was something she could have done to save them if only she had known what her father had planned, all while raising little Hoster on her own.

When Edmure had been released on the order of King Jon, house Frey fell into poverty, forced to renounce their titles and lands. Roslin had never felt more happy then when she felt justice had been served to her cruel family, proud to have married out of it.

As she walked through the tourney fields of Storm's End, she began a conversation with the niece of that poor, slaughtered queen.

"So, lady Talisa, how are you liking Westeros?" Roslin laced her fingers through each other, resting them in front of her belly, her large sleeves hanging almost to the ends of her dress before the Volantene lady responded.

"Compared to the last time that I visited, it has been much more... eventful. I last visited for my cousin Jojen Stark's tenth nameday at Winterfell, two years ago, with my entire family. My mother enjoyed being back at her ancestral home during that trip, but it was fairly uneventful." Talisa had a lovely voice. It was an alluring Volantene accent that didn't overpower her words, but added a touch of character and intrigue.

"I can imagine. They say that a tourney of this magnitude hasn't been seen since the historic tourney at Harrenhal. It's quite exciting if you ask me." There was a pause and Lady Tully realized that the "excitement" of the tourney would have washed away by the rape of her older sister, Catelyn. She quickly decided to change the subject. "I seem to have forgotten, how many siblings do you have, Lady Talisa?" The Volantene's face lit up at this question before she began to gush about her siblings.

"I have four brothers and three sisters. The oldest is Cat, and she's the only Bolton in the group. She's nineteen, and she is my closest friend. She was named for our maternal grandmother, Catelyn Stark. Then, there's Ned. He's eighteen and has all of Father's looks, with the black curls, black eyes, and olive skin. He was named for our maternal grandfather, Lord Eddard Stark. Then there's me, seventeen, and I supposedly look like my namesake and aunt, Talisa Stark. Then there's Celyna, who's got the Stark grey eyes and otherwise, has mostly Father's looks. She's fourteen and the youngest of us here from Volantis. She was named for our paternal grandmother who died in childbed with our aunt, Calysta Maegyr. Then there's the twins, Robb and Rickon, named for our maternal uncles, Robb and Rickon Stark. They're eleven and they've got Father's coloring and Mother's build. After the twins, there's sweet little Verrum. He's nine, and Father always says that he looks like our paternal grandfather, the man that he was named for. Then, lastly, there's little Miryla. She's seven, and like the twins, has Father's coloring and Mother's build. She's the only one of us not named for a dead member of Mother of Father's immediate families. Mother always says that eight children was too many blessings for one woman." Roslin's brown eyes widened with shock and impressiveness. She knew that Sansa Maegyr had many children, but she didn't know that she had _eight_. Roslin had two less, and she had spaced them out for her and Edmure's sanity.

"Well, that is quite a large family. However, growing up, I was a Frey, and I didn't even know how many brothers and sisters I had." Roslin breathed with a giggle. The funniest part was that it wasn't a joke. She would sometimes meet a lady who had married out of the Frey family and wouldn't even know that they were her sister until she asked what house they hailed from.

"I could never imagine that. It must have been hectic." Talisa exclaimed as they walked past an archery competition.

"It was horrid. Almost everyone was cruel, yet most of the time, you wouldn't even know it. I'm proud to be a Tully now. I hated being a Frey. That family was a malicious bunch of bottom feeding spawn." Roslin spat before she composed herself and shook her head.

"I assume you weren't treated very well?" Talisa asked. Roslin thought back to her days in Riverrun, just after seizing it from her own new house. She was treated as a prisoner, mocked, isolated, and sometimes beaten by her own siblings for being the new lady Tully. They all hated little Hoster when he was born. She had named him after Edmure's father partially out of respect for Edmure, but mostly as if to spite her cruel family.

"Yes, lady Talisa. I was not treated very well. But, once the Northern and Vale forces came to drive the Freys out and released Edmure from imprisonment, life became good." She smiled as she remembered her first night back with Edmure. After explaining her dis-involvement with the red wedding, and how she was treated as an outcast among her siblings, they had gotten along wonderfully. That night they had conceived Simon, who was a man that had been raised with few faults.

"That's good. If you'll excuse me, I see my mother. Thank you for the lovely chat, lady Tully. It was a pleasure meeting you." Talisa bowed her head politely before the two exchanged polite smiles and the Volantene left to speak with Sansa Maegyr.

_SANSA_

Sansa was walking alongside the numerous competitions going on when she saw Talisa with Roslin Tully. She opened her arms and lightly embraced her third born child.

"Hello Mother." Sansa smiled lightly before releasing her daughter.

"Hello Talisa. How has your morning been?" Sansa and Talisa began to walk arm in arm through the tourney fields.

"It's been fine, how has yours been, Mother?" Sansa thought back to her spat with Ned about the spear throwing competition, which she argued was too dangerous, yet he ultimately ended up winning both the argument the the competition. She decided not to mention it.

"My morning has been alright. Have you seen Celyna?" She hadn't seen her fourth born child all day, and that was concerning her.

"Yes, she's in the library with Jyana Stark and Lya Baratheon." Sansa nodded, relieved, as she continued to stroll through the grounds.

"I received a raven from Volantis today." Lady Maegyr said, hoping to excite her daughter with news from home.

"Who wrote?" Talisa asked excitedly.

"Father and the twins. Verrum and Miryla scrawled their names at the bottom as well." Sansa giggled softly at the thought of her littlest daughter and son concentrating on writing their names.

"Do you have the letter with you?" Lady Maegyr smiled at her daughter's urgent excitement as she pulled the letter out of a pocket on the inside of her large, draping sleeves before reading it out loud.

" _My dearest Sansa,_

 _It has been two weeks since you left, and I miss you all more than ever. Miryla cried for two days when you left, and was only calmed when Calysta came to visit from Myr. She's enjoyed her artistic studies, and apparently she met a Westerosi man from the Reach there. He's a Hightower by the name of Braxon. I've been looking into the history of house Hightower. He is kind enough, and of noble birth. We will see how everything works out.  
How is everything in Storm's End? How is Cat adjusting? I know that she was nervous leaving."_ Sansa paused before continuing. _"And what about Ned? Tell him to cheer up more. There's so many adventures to be had if only he would take the chance. Ask Talisa about the music that they play during feasts! I get tired of the same ceremonial songs that they play at every single meeting of the triarchs. The gods only know how much I miss the Westerosi musical variety. Tell Celyna that I miss her wise council on the subjects of gardening. The flowers in her garden miss her dearly. I will now hand over the paper and quill to Robb, who has just entered my solar. Send my regards to Arya, Gendry, Jon, Bran, and Meera._

_Dearest Mother,_

_How is Westeros? Do you enjoy being in your original home? We miss you here. We also miss our sisters and Ned. Here is Rickon._

_Dearest Mother,_

_What does a horse look like? Is it as big as an elephant? Father misses you a whole lot. So do I._ Avy jorrāelan. (I love you) __

 _Ambrose, Robb, Rickon, Verrum and Miryla."_ Sansa smiled as Talisa suddenly paused. "What is it, darling?" She looked to where her daughter was staring to see Nymeria walking beside her mistress. Arya and her direwolf approached the ladies Maegyr.

"Talisa, if you wouldn't mind, I must speak with your mother alone for a moment." Arya stated. Her tone made Sansa nervous, as she could tell that something was wrong. Talisa nodded before leaving.

"Arya, what's going on?" Her younger sister looked at her with worry and fear in her grey eyes.

"The faceless men have sent assassins after my children. There was an attack on Lya last night. I thank the gods that I was there with Needle before she could be harmed, but I can't take any more risks. Gendry is already making arrangements to end the tourney three weeks early so we can get our children away from here, so they'll be safe. Which brings me to my main point." Sansa's mind was spinning. First her daughter was raped, and now there'd been an attempt on her niece's life.

"Which is?" Arya paused before taking her sister by the arm and steering into a quiet patch of trees, Nymeria following close behind.

"We're taking Lya and the boys to Winterfell before we arrange betrothals for all of them to be sent elsewhere. Gendry and I thought that since Cat will have to go North soon anyways to live in the Dreadfort, that the two of you might want to travel north with us?" Sansa's breath hitched and and she began to feel panic at the thought of leaving her firstborn daughter.

"Cat and I will be going back to Volantis to say goodbye before we go to the Dreadfort." She said quickly. Arya pursed her lips before responding.

"Sansa, I know that you fear for Cat. I fear for my children each and every day. I know that in light of the recent events that occurred, you want her closer to you than ever. But you must remember that for her to learn to fly, she must leave the nest." Arya's hand was on her sister's shoulder now as she watched her wipe a tear from her cheek.

"Do you remember what Father used to tell us?" Lady Maegyr paused before her grey eyed sister motioned for her to continue. "In winter, the lone wolf will die, but the pack survives." Arya hugged her sister close as small sobs began to rack through her body.

"Dearest sister, _we_ were lone wolves for many years, yet we survived the winter storm. Catelyn is no pup any longer. She is the last Bolton and a woman grown. It's time for her to take over the Dreadfort." Deep down, Sansa could feel the terrible truth to her sister's words as she reluctantly nodded. The two Stark sisters held each other for a few moments longer as the elder cried for her firstborn child, not wanting to let her go.

_KAMON_

He had spent the day at the tourney, making a fair amount of gold competing for the lords who paid them to bring honor to their houses against noble knights, who fought with too much honor and not enough skill. He was now back at the tavern, enjoying the merry mood and music of all the other guests there.

As he ascended the stairs and opened the door to his room, he found someone that he didn't expect to see. The man waiting in his chambers had blood tinted gauze around wrapped around the shoulder and across the chest of his aging body. His uncle looked up at him and smiled.

"Hello my nephew." Lord Petyr Baelish choked with a weak grin. "It appears that I've gotten myself into a bit of a predicament."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! So first off, I am once again sorry for the late update. I have finals coming up so I've been putting writing aside to study, but I finished this chapter and I am really excited about the outcome. Thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye!


	10. Jaqen/Kamon/Ambrose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaqen visits his wife and sons, Kamon learns of his uncle's crimes, and Ambrose receives news of his stepdaughter's rape.

_JAQEN_

They arrived in Lys much faster than Jaqen would have expected. Only two weeks. As he stepped onto the docks, he realized that he had no idea where to start looking for Pana.

_Start by finding Zara and the boys. You know where they are._

He tried to silence that nagging voice in the back of his head on the journey, but it was no use. The voice was right. He _did_ know where his wife and sons were. He began his walk through the stone streets of Lys, breathing in the scent of the life he used to lead before.

_Before..._

_He had sold the special pair of shoes to a magister, who paid him enough money to celebrate for months. Venko and Qollee stayed home from singing on the streets that day, and Zara had been able to buy Pana a new doll. It was a nice little doll, with pink cheeks and silver hair. Byr got new books for his school. Life was a celebration._

_He started to go to taverns, betting on games of Cyvasse each night. He would cheat to win more money, more luxuries for his wife and children._

_Until one night, he was discovered. When he came home that night, he found his Pana cowering and crying over the dead bodies of her mother and brothers. They had been killed by a man that he had cheated. That night, he boarded a ship to Braavos. When he arrived at the house of Black and White, a beautiful woman with mismatched eyes and silver hair asked him if he wanted the gift. He had looked up at her through his tears and said,_

_"Teach me to forget."_

_And so she did._

Jaqen arrived at the grave yard as he came out of his memory. He wandered through the graves, seeing the names of old friends on the headstones. He arrived at the emerald stone that read "H'ghar" and saw the names of his wife and sons beneath. He knelt before the stone and began to weep for his own foolishness. He alone was responsible for their deaths.

"Ser? Are you alright?" Jaqen looked up to see a young woman with golden hair and brown eyes looking down at him. Those same brown eyes were the ones of a girl who had come from Lorath begging to serve the many faced god. She never changed her eyes when she wore a different face, her only flaw as a servant of the many faced god.

 _That will soon be her downfall._ He thought with a grimace as he subtly grabbed the dagger hanging at his hip.

"A girl should have worn a different set of eyes when on assignment to kill her teacher." He mumbled as he stabbed her in the throat. For the first time in thirty years, he began to feel remorse for his sin as he watched the poor girl dying before him. He spent the next few hours digging her a grave, all while knowing that he had to hasten his search for his daughter, as the brown eyed girl would not be the last assassin that the house of black and white would send after him.

_KAMON_

His uncle Petyr had not been a constant in his life. Kamon had lived in Braavos for the first sixteen years of his life before moving to Westeros, now having twenty four years to his name. He had only his mother as a boy, Petyr's sister, who had been born two years before her brother. She had gone to Braavos to marry a sellsword, Kamon's father, but when she arrived, she found her lover dead in his home, which she took over to raise their son. Petyr would always send gifts and money to help them get by, but rarely visited until Kamon was ten, when he moved in with him and his mother.

As he watched his uncle struggle to stand, his heart began to pound, the sight of him hard to stomach. The wound on his shoulder was hardly covered by the bandages, the pus and blood hardened around the wound. Whoever had done this would pay for hurting him, Kamon would see to that.

The Braavosi ran to his uncle's aid to help him stand.

"Uncle Petyr! What in the seven hells happened to you?" He asked urgently as he helped him sit on the feather bed.

"Ah, well see Kamon, there is a secret that you must help me keep if I'm to tell you what happened." Petyr groaned as his nephew nodded his head.

"Of course, Uncle, anything." Petyr's dark grey eyes fell on his nephew's black ones and he took a deep and shaky breath.

"I have reason to shame, my boy. I dishonored a lady by the name of Catelyn Bolton."

_AMBROSE_

His wife's raven had come in a month and a half after she had left. When he read the letter, his heart nearly stopped beating.

" _Ambrose, skoros mazverdagon ao bisa ñuhoso?_ " (Ambrose, what makes you this way?) Calysta asked as the Volantene triarch stormed through the halls towards of his home towards the front gate. Ambrose stopped and turned to look at his sister, the letter still clutched in his hands.

" _Ñuha Catelyn iksin qrillaetagon._ " (My Catelyn was raped.) He growled. Calysta's obsidian eyes widened as her hands flew to her mouth and began to shake.

" _Ivestragon nyke bisa iksis iā pirtir!_ " (Tell me this is a lie!) The Volantene lady exclaimed as tears began to well in her eyes.

" _Nyke jaelagon bona kostan, hāedar. Ūndegon syt aōla, isse Sansa's ondos._ " (I wish that I could, little sister. See for yourself, in Sansa's own hand.) He spat as he handed Calysta the letter. Her obsidian eyes ran over the words written in his wife's hand and a gasp escaped her lips.

" _Bisa daor sagon drēje._ " (This cannot be real.) She whispered as a tear fell onto the page.

" _Iksan zūgagon issa drēje, Calysta._ " (I'm afraid it is real, Calysta.) His little sister looked into his eyes before responding.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice shaking with hurt and anger. Ambrose clenched his teeth as his black eyes stared into nothing.

"I'm going to find whoever ravished my stepdaughter and I swear to all the gods, I will kill him with my own two hands." Ambrose could see the shock in his sister's eyes, as lord Maegyr was never one to be violent and was nearly always merciful.

"Ambrose, are you sure? Would it not be wise to let the Baratheon's men serve justice?" She asked carefully. Her older brother turned to look at her, his fury boiling beneath the surface of his skin.

"Myself and Sansa have raised Catelyn, she has lived in my protection all her life. She is as much my daughter as Talisa, Celyna, or Miryla." Ambrose paused before continuing. "Arrange for my top advisor, Enyra Poroq, to take my place as triarch for the coming months. I am going to Westeros."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know that this is a bit short, but I just wanted to do a quick little chapter on all the stuff happening outside of Storm's End and Westeros. And for once I actually have this chapter up within a week of the last update!!! Yay!!! Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a comment:) Bye bye!


	11. Cat/Sansa/Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cat learns where she will be going after the tourney, Sansa speaks with her siblings and the queen at the jousts, Arya informs her children of their betrothals, and someone makes an attempt on the life of lady Stark.

_CAT_

It was the first day of the jousts. Cat was just waking, the sun's rays of warmth and light barely touching the clouds when her mother entered her chambers in the Maester's tower.

"Catelyn?" The orange haired Bolton's eyes fluttered open and she shifted her position so she was sitting up against her pillows, staring at her mother.

"Good morning, Mother." She paused, noticing the anxious expression on her lady mother's face. "What's bothering you?" Sansa wrung her hands and took a seat on the stool next to her daughter's bed.

"You aunt and I were having a conversation last night. She and your Uncle Gendry are taking your cousins to Winterfell in seven days time. We're going to be traveling north so you can take over the Dreadfort." Catelyn's heart crawled up into her throat at her mother's words.

"But I thought we were going to Volantis first to say goodbye? Mother, you promised me!" Tears started to well up in Cat's eyes as her mother struggled to remain calm and composed.

"Cat, it could take up to a month to travel back to Volantis, and then a month coming back. You've come of age and now it is your time, as a Bolton, to take your rightful place as Lady of the Dreadfort." Sansa stated with a grave tone, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice. Tears were now streaming down Cat's cheeks as she thought of her youngest siblings and stepfather.

"Will I ever get to say goodbye? Mother, I can't leave for the Dreadfort without saying goodbye to the twins, Verrum, and Miryla— "

"I never got to say goodbye! I never got to say goodbye to my brothers, nor my parents and then they all _died!_ I barely remember what my youngest brother _looked_ like, be grateful that your siblings are all alive!" Lady Maegyr snapped before she stopped herself. Cat sat shocked, as her mother rarely spoke of any of her dead family members in a tragic light. Her mother stood abruptly after wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "I expect to see you at the great hall to break your fast." Sansa said with a shaking voice before turning and leaving the room.

Cat dressed soon after in a pale green dress with a straight neckline and quarter length tight sleeves. It was made of Lysene silk, and fit her like a glove. She grabbed her cane and limped out of the maester's tower accompanied by guards towards the great hall.

When she entered, all eyes went to her and all of the conversations died. In that moment, she was acutely aware of the fact that she hadn't broken her fast in the great hall since she had been raped. She sat down in between her mother and Ned and began to eat the food in front of her. The first to speak was Queen Daenerys.

"Lady Lyanna, how did you sleep last night?" Cat's grey eyed cousin looked up from her food before answering the pregnant queen.

"I slept well, how did you sleep your grace?" The silver haired queen smiled politely before responding.

"The same, thank you for asking." There was a long silence until the king spoke up.

"Lady Catelyn, how are you liking the food?" Cat looked up at her king and forced a smile. She thought of what her mother had told her about the king. About how they were raised believing to be half siblings, the king believed to be a bastard of her mother's father. She wondered how he had lived as Jon Snow, a man of the Night's Watch compared to Jon Targaryen, the king of Westeros.

"Very well, your grace." The meal was finished quickly thereafter and Cat left with her siblings for the jousts.

_SANSA_

Sansa was supposed to be seated in one of the chairs next to the elevated ones of Jon and Daenerys, but she, Jon, Arya, and Bran were currently in the small room behind the seats before the jousts started. It had been many years since they had all been alone together.

"Jyana is excited to have Lya in Winterfell." Bran said as the four sat around the small room, lit only by a few candles. Arya chuckled once before responding.

"I am sure she is, but I assume she is much less excited to have Tallond in Greywater Watch." Arya stated. Bran laughed at his sister before nodding.

"They don't get along too well. But hopefully, that will change." Lord Stark said. Lady Baratheon grew quiet.

"It will have to change." There was a heavy silence as everyone thought of the danger that Arya's children were in. It was Jon who spoke up next.

"Dany and I are very excited to be hosting Lyanna when you come back from Winterfell." The king said, breaking the silence. Arya looked down at her feet before looking back up at her cousin.

"Thank you Jon." The king gazed at Arya softly before Sansa spoke up.

"When did this happen?" She asked. Everyone furrowed their brows.

"What do you mean?" Bran asked, clearly confused.

"When did Jon become King of the seven kingdoms? When did I become Lady Maegyr and Arya Lady Baratheon? When did Bran become Lord of Winterfell? When did we stop being young siblings giggling in Robb's chambers late at night after all of Winterfell had gone to sleep? When did we all stop being brothers and sisters and start being mothers and fathers? What happened?" Sansa asked, looking around at the people she grew up with. Bran looked into his sister's river blue eyes with his own, his face showing his regret and sorrow.

"We left Winterfell, dear sister, and that has made the world of a difference." As the words settled in, the four were startled by the trumpets blaring, signifying the start of the jousts. They pushed back the curtains that separated the balcony dais and their back room before taking their seats. Daenerys smiled at Sansa as she took her seat on the conquer queen's right.

"How did you sleep last night, lady Sansa?" Dany asked. Lady Maegyr thought back to her dream. It had been a sort of flashback, a moment where she relived her final marriage ceremony to Ambrose. There were days worth of Volantene wedding ceremonies that took place before the bride and groom could officially be man and wife. The final ceremony was the one that resembled a Westorosi wedding custom, making it her favorite. Ambrose had presented her with her first _dīnilūks grēza_ , which roughly translated to _marriage dress_. It was a beautiful silk gown with intricate detailing, all silver and blue colors with two encircled tigers on the sleeves, and as soon as she put it on her body, the wedding was over; they were married.

"I slept well, your grace. I had a dream about my wedding." Sansa cooed politely, and the queen got a funny look on her face. "My Volantene wedding, your grace." Dany smiled and nodded before a minstrel announced the first men to joust. It was a knight from house Redwyne, Ser Jon, firstborn son and second born child of Horas, against Ser Vince Arryn. Daenerys clapped and the two rode forth. The Arryn heir unhorsed the Redwyne with ease, the crowds cheering for him. As the jousts went on, the queen struck up a conversation with the orange haired lady seated to her right.

"As you may have heard, I am with child." Dany said, keeping her eyes on the jousting before them. Sansa nodded and smiled.

"I have, your grace, congratulations." Dany's smile quickly slipped into a look of nervousness, wringing her hands and furrowing her brow.

"You've born eight children, my lady. Eight children who have all survived. Eight children who are strong and healthy. Eight children who love and care for each other, yourself, and your husband. I've born three, yet two perished before I could even hold them to my breast. I would like to ask, how have you behaved during pregnancy? I only inquire because I do not intend to lose this one." Sansa looked at the silver haired queen, who had placed a hand protectively over her abdomen.

"Well, for one, get plenty of rest. Meet regularly with a maester or a midwife. Try not to travel too often, refrain from drinking wine or ale, and stay away from milk of the poppy. I always followed those rules in each of my seven pregnancies, and all eight of my children have turned out alive and well." Daenerys smiled warmly at Sansa, the two remaining quiet for the remainder of the day's jousts.

_ARYA_

"Tallond?" Lady Baratheon pronounced outside of the door to her youngest son's chambers. His was the largest room, so her children always met there at night. It was an hour past supper, and she was sure to find all four of her children there. A moment later, Tallond opened the door and welcomed his lady mother inside.

"Hello Mother. What brings you here?" Ryle inquired. He was playing a game of _cyvasse_ with Lya by the window where the setting sun's last rays of light reached in to spread throughout the room.

"I have something to discuss with each of you regarding where you will all be going after our visit to Winterfell." The siblings Baratheon all furrowed their brows in confusion.

"Mother, what are you talking about?" Jon inquired. Arya inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. She imagined her orange haired mother, and how she had always been such a powerful and respectable lady. _Mother, send me your wisdom so I might know how to tell my children._

"Jon, you're to be married to lady Elaina Lannister. You will spend a year at Casterly Rock with her family after you marry before returning here to Storm's End." Jon nodded dutifully before she turned to her second born son. "Ryle, you're to marry lady Sansa Lannister. She is heir to Evenfall Hall, and you will become it's lord following the death of the elderly Lord Selwyn Tarth. Tallond, you are to marry lady Jyana Stark." Tallond gave a look of such betrayal that Arya felt like sobbing and holding her sweet boy in her arms.

"Jyana Stark? But Mother— " Arya raised a hand.

"Not another word. It has already been decided. You two will marry and will live in Greywater Watch. You will learn how to keep and run the castle from Lord Howland Reed, it's current lord." She turned to her only daughter and felt her heart wrench. _Only four and ten._ "Lya, you are to marry the prince. You will live in the Red Keep, and will learn from Queen Daenerys how to rule alongside Rhaegar." Lyanna stood in protest.

"Mother, how could you? I'm far too young to be married! Do you just want to be rid of all of us, is that— "

"I'm doing this so you won't get killed!" Arya snapped. Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late.

"Mother?" Tallond asked, his concern clear across his face and in his voice. "Who is trying to kill us?" Arya swallowed hard.

"No one, my darlings. No one." Lady Baratheon choked. She could see by their faces that they didn't believe her and her stomach twisted in knots of fear knowing that she had lied. She smoothed her dress and turned to leave. "Goodnight, my loves. I will see you in the morning." She exited the room and hurried to the lord's chambers.

Gendry was waiting for her by the balcony.

"How did they take the news?" Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran into her husband's arms. They stood there for a moment, neither saying a word, but both understanding each other's thoughts.

"I'm afraid, Gendry." She whispered after a few long moments. He stroked her dark hair as she heard him sniff.

"I have never been more afraid in my life, my love, but we must be strong. We must be strong for our sons and our daughter. Without our strength they won't survive." Arya nodded in agreement before they disrobed and crawled into bed.

Later that night, Arya and Gendry were awoken by the guard who had been stationed outside of Lyanna's room.

"My lord, my lady, I apologize for waking you, but this is urgent." Arya's heart pounded in her chest as she put on her robe.

"Waste no time, what news?" Gendry choked hurriedly.

"It's lady Stark. She's been stabbed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So first off, I'd just like to address the fact that this update is late. I'm currently in two different theatre productions for my school (Tempest and Little Women) and there's not been much time to write. But! I am really excited about this chapter and I hope you enjoyed! There's some big stuff coming, so stay tuned! Thank you so much for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a nice comment:)


	12. Bran/Jyana/Meera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bran stays with his wife, Jyana and Jojen learn of their mother's stabbing, and Meera tells Bran a message of great importance.

_BRAN_

Ever since Bran had been pushed from the broken tower at Winterfell all those years ago, rendering him unable to walk, he had made a mental list of all the things that he would not be able to do. On that list was _Marry a lady_ and _Become a father_. All thanks to Meera, he had been able to prove himself wrong on those two counts. She had loved him and treated him no different than anyone else, despite his inability to work his legs. She had helped design the crutches that allowed him to walk, she bore him two healthy children, she had aided him in managing Winterfell, and most importantly, she had loved him and their children with an unbreakable ferocity.

He sat by her bedside in the Maester's tower, clutching her sweaty hand as she lay helpless on the feather bed. It had all happened so quickly, and he had sat pathetically by unable to do anything but scream her name, the thought to warg into her attacker only occurring to him after she had taken a stab to the side. He had used the assassin's body to take her to the maester's tower, where Maester Willem treated her wounds and gave her milk of the poppy. It was the dead of night, yet he had never felt more awake. She had been asleep for about thirty minutes, the attack having taken place an hour before. Her lord husband watched closely as her chest rose and fell, praying that it would not fall to never rise again.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Standing there was his lady sister and goodbrother, obviously having recently been wakened from their sleep.

"Meera," Arya breathed before running to her side. "How did this happen, Bran?" She asked urgently as Gendry hurried over to stand by his wife's side.

"A man came in through the window. He had a steel blade. He grabbed Meera by the hair, dragged her out of the bed, and stabbed her in the side. I warged into him and brought her here before forcing the assassin to fling himself from the window. By then, the guards had been informed of the situation and were able to help me to get here." His sister nodded solemnly before a panicked look came over her face.

"Bran, did her attacker say anything?" Bran thought for a minute before nodding.

"Yes, he did actually. I think it was Valyrian? I'm not exactly sure. It sounded something like Valor-doe-something." He shook his head, attempting to remember.

" _Valar Dohaeris?_ " His sister asked, fear and panic evident in her grey eyes.

"Yes, that was it. _Valar Dohaeris._." Lord Stark noticed his sister's terrified expression. "What does it mean, Arya?" He inquired, curious and afraid.

"It means 'all men must serve.' It's a saying of the Faceless Men of Braavos." She uttered the words gravely as Bran cocked his head in concern.

"You mean that's it? The Faceless Men are after us?" Arya and Gendry nodded solemnly.

"They've been paid to hurt me. Apparently they were hired by members of houses Trant, Frey, and Payne. I hurt them many years ago, so they've been biding their time, and saving their money, waiting to hire the Faceless Men to hurt me. There was an attempt on Lya's life the other night, but I never thought that they would come for your family." Bran's eyes widened as his slouched back went straight.

"Gendry, send for Jyana and Jojen! Bring them here, I will not have my son or daughter harmed. While you're at it, send for Sansa, her children, Jon, Daenerys, Rhaegar, and your children as well. We must stay together while we are all at risk." Gendry nodded and hurried out of the room. Ten minutes later, the families Baratheon, Stark, Maegyr, and Targaryen were all together in the large library of the Maester's tower. Jyana and Jojen Stark were the last to arrive. Bran and Arya were the only ones that remained in the room with Meera.

"Arya, will you tell my children what has happened to their mother? I don't think I can bear leaving her side." His sister nodded as she gazed at Meera's sleeping form with an unreadable expression before turning and exiting the room.

_JYANA_

Jyana was waiting with her brother and all her cousins in the library of the Maester's tower, Jojen practically clinging to her in the corner. He had always been shy, yet never quite so much as she was seeing him now. From the winding stone staircase, she spotted her aunt, lady Arya Baratheon, in a blue robe with silver stags sewn into the bodice, coming down the stairs. Her striking grey eyes landed on Jyana and her brother, and she began to stride towards them.

"Jyana, Jojen, there's something that I need to tell you." The green eyed Stark furrowed her brow and cocked her head, her grey eyed brother making the same gesture.

"What is it, Aunt Arya?" Jojen asked. She put an arm around each of their shoulders and steered them into an empty and quiet corner of the room.

"Your mother has been stabbed. She's alright for now. She's resting with your father by her side." Jyana's heart stopped and she pushed her aunt to the side, clutching her brother's hand, and together they ran up the stairs.

The door to her mother's bed chambers was wide open, and as soon as she saw her lady mother lying on the feather bed, pale, sweaty, with weak and shaking breath, the green eyed Stark felt a lump in her throat. Tears began to pool in her eyes as her blue eyed father turned and saw her and her brother

"Jyana, Jojen. I'm so sorry that this happened." Her lord father croaked. He was absentmindedly making circles on the back of his lady wife's hand with his thumb.

"Why weren't we told immediately?" Jyana demanded through her tears. She went to the side of her mother's bed opposite her father.

"I didn't want you to worry. Maester Willem says that if she makes it through the night, she will survive. I've never known a woman more determined than your mother, and she _will_ make it through the night. This I swear to you." The green eyed Stark began to smooth back her mother's dark and curly hair, tears falling down her cheeks. Her mother had always been the strongest person in her life. Growing up, she was sure that her mother could do anything at all. She had trained her in archery and with daggers and knives. She had taught her and her brother how to hunt, to ride, and how to swing a sword. Seeing her lying unconscious underneath the blankets where there were sure to be blood soaked bandages felt like a knife to the heart.

Suddenly, lady Stark's breath hitched. Jyana's hand flew back from her mother's hair in panic, before her green eyes fluttered open. They first landed on her lord husband, who was still clutching her hand.

"Bran," She croaked before letting go of his hand to rest her own on his cheek tenderly.

"Meera," Jyana's lord father breathed his wife's name in relief, a tear falling from his blue eyes as he began to stroke his lady wife's untamed hair. "Our children are here to see you." Lady Stark turned her head to see her two children standing on the other side of the bed before smiling at them weakly.

"Jyana, Jojen. I'm so sorry that you have to see me like this." She whispered. The green eyed Stark shook her head as the tears fell down her cheeks.

"I'm glad that I'm seeing you alive rather than dead." She uttered as her brother moved to take their mother's shaking and outstretched hand. Seeing the tears in her son's grey eyes, Meera Stark addressed her younger child.

"Jojen. You were named for my beloved brother. He was the one who truly brought your father and myself together. You have his eyes, you know. Not the color, but the shape. Growing up, he was my closest and truly one of my only friends. He had the sight, like your father. He died for your father. I do miss him so, but I should like to hold off on a reunion for a while longer." Jyana watched as her brother's tears fell quietly down his cheeks. There was a long pause before Jojen responded.

"Mother, will you die tonight?" Tears began to pool in lady Stark's green eyes at her son's question.

"I don't know, my little wolf. I don't know." Jyana bent down and kissed her mother's forehead, a tear drop falling on lady Stark's skin. After she had stood straight once more, her brother bent down and did the same.

"Go back to the library, children. Let your mother get some rest." Lord Stark commanded. Jyana looked to her blue eyed father and nodded her head, despite the fact that she wanted to scream at him for sending them away. Jojen opened his mouth to argue, but his sister shot him a look that told him _It's no use._

"Goodnight Mother." The green eyed Stark whispered as she took her brother's hand.

"Goodnight my little wolves." Meera Stark struggled to raise her arm up high enough to wave goodbye to her children. By the time they got back to the Maester's library, there were cots, blankets, and pillows set up about the room. The Stark siblings curled up together on a cot in the corner, away from all the others. After an hour or two, all of their relatives slowly started to fall asleep, one by one, until the only ones awake were Jyana and Jojen.

"Do you think she'll survive?" The youngest Stark whispered.

"Our mother was born a Reed of Greywater Watch. She has battled white walkers, fought in wars, and has successfully recovered from many wounds of the past. She married into the Stark family, the sons and daughters of the Winter storms. Our mother will live." As she said the words, the green eyed Stark began to doubt the truth of the last sentence. _Our mother will live._

_MEERA_

She couldn't feel the pain of the stab.

The milk of the poppy had numbed it to a point of comfort. Yet the lady of Winterfell could feel her life slipping out of her body with each breath she took, each one more difficult than the last. She was struggling to stay awake, barely able to prevail. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain in her heart and she knew that death was near. Lady Stark mustered all her strength and squeezed her husband's hand.

"Bran!" She croaked in a barely audible whisper. Her lord husband's blue eyes shot open and he leaned forward, taking her hand in both of his own.

"What is it Meera?" She took a shaking breath before speaking.

"Do not break Jyana's betrothal to Tallond Baratheon." She gasped for air after speaking, the task becoming increasingly harder. "When they leave for Greywater Watch, tell her to find the book bound in the skin of the lizard lion." Another shaking and desperate gasp for air. Her throat felt as if she had poured rum and sand down it, yet she continued on. She had to get it out. "The past rests on it's pages of lies, the veil lifted on the hidden faces of the ones who have turned away their pains. It holds the secrets of the rabbit and the hyena, she must uncover it! Tell her to Bran!" Her husband's crying face began to blur before her as her vision began to go dark around the edges.

"Meera please don't leave me!" He was begging her, but it was too difficult to breathe.

"Tell her Bran," She managed to croak.

"Meera? Meera answer me! MEERA! _MEERA!_ " The darkness overcame her.

Lady Stark had died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Oh man, it is so difficult to kill off characters that you love. I'm really going to miss writing Meera, I just wish that I had been able to write more of her. However, with the way that this story is structured, it wouldn't work too well to have much more of her POV. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! As always, thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a nice comment. Bye bye!


	13. Ambrose/Jyana/Tallond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ambrose is reunited with his family, Jyana mourns her mother with her aunt, and Tallond learns Lyanna's fear.

__

_AMBROSE_

It had been two weeks since Lady Meera Stark had been stabbed and killed. He had received word of his good sister's death through rumors among the sailors and their wives, yet it was confirmed for him as soon as his ship arrived in the port at Storm's End. He had not sent word ahead to Sansa of his visitation, he hadn't the time, so he knew that she would be surprised to see him. From the docks, he could see Storm's End, and all of the people milling about the docks were dressed in mourning black, most of them speaking with Northern accents. The people of the North adored Bran and Meera. They ruled it justly and well. It was with a sharp and terrible certainty that Ambrose knew that his sister by law had truly been killed when he saw those black garments, as the Stormlands were famous for their bright and vibrant clothes.

As he made his way up the hills on foot to the seat of house Baratheon, he thought of his eldest child, Catelyn. When he and Sansa were married in Volantis, she took his name but made sure that Cat's stayed Bolton. For weeks he had begged her to allow him to make their little Cat a Maegyr, to rid the Bolton name of their sweet babe. But she had refused, and eventually gave her reasoning. She had been feeding Cat with her own breast when she had looked into her husband's eyes that day.

_"I was raped by Ramsay Bolton. He violated my honor, stripped me of my pride, and stole my dignity. Her name must be his so I never forget from whence she came. I must always remember so that I can protect her from ever coming near a man like Ramsay."_

He stood at the great doors of Storm's End, and was approached by two men bearing the Baratheon stag on their breast plates.

"State your name and business." The first guard barked. He had the dark sun kissed skin of a man of the Summer Isles. Ambrose adjusted his cloak and stood proud and tall.

"I am Lord Ambrose of the house Maegyr, triarch of Volantis, and husband to Lady Sansa Maegyr of the house Stark." The guards' eyes both widened before they shouted orders to other men to open the gates. He strode into through the open gates, tall and proud, yet his heart was pounding. He had to find his family. He soon came upon a grove of trees, where the crowd of people thinned and the voices grew hushed. He had found the godswood. Ambrose kept walking down the stony path until he reached the great heart tree. He was surprised to find a weirwood there, staring at him from the short distance between the clearing and the end of the path where he stood. And kneeling at the base of the tree, with her back turned to him, was his wife. Her long orange hair was flowing down her back, and she was dressed in a mourning black gown.

"Sansa," He breathed her name effortlessly, and as she turned around to face him, he seemed to feel a large weight off of his shoulders, his wife's bright, river blue eyes relieving him of his worries, if only for a moment. Her eyes widened in shock and surprise, which was quickly replaced by relief.

"Ambrose!" She picked up her skirts before running to him, and the two colliding in a warm and tight embrace. He had hardly realized how much he missed being in his wife's arms until that moment. She slowly pulled away and took his face in her hands. "My love, what are you doing here?" She asked, joyful tears pooling in her eyes.

"I came as soon as I got your letter about what happened to Cat." He whispered as he wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Her face turned to something soft and touched as she lightly pressed her lips against his.

"You haven't the slightest idea how I've missed you." She uttered, the tips of their noses pressed against the other's. She then buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, the two of them relishing in the feeling of being in the other's arms. Ambrose breathed in the scent of her perfume, the same scent that her own mother had worn, the floral smelling concoction from the Riverlands. After a few moments longer, Ambrose pulled away from Sansa.

"Where is Cat, my love?" He spoke the words softly as his orange haired wife slipped her hands into the crook of his arm and began to lead him out of the godswood.

"She's been doing better in the past few weeks. Even Ned has been treating her kindly, and you know how he is with her. Talisa spends most of her days with Cat in the Maester's tower or in the gardens. Celyna spends her days with Lyanna Baratheon and occasionally Sansa Lannister will join them." Ambrose listened as best he could, but he could hardly keep his mind off of seeing his eldest child. Finally, they arrived in the gardens where he spotted his little Cat. Her orange hair was hanging down her back in a braid filled with little flowers and she was kneeling by a bed of blushing summer peonies with Talisa. She wore a mourning black dress with a fitted waist, flowing skirts, and tight sleeves that went to her elbows, a style popular in the Stormlands. The moment her river blue eyes locked with his own obsidian black, he felt his heart melt. She had always been the kindest and softest of his daughters. He had only heard tales of Ramsay Bolton, never having known her blood father, but he knew that she had inherited none of him. She was entirely her mother's daughter.

"Father!" His two oldest daughters shouted in unison before Talisa helped Cat stand. His second born child ran to him, his stepdaughter hurrying behind her with a limp, until they both were in his arms. He felt tears prickling his eyes and heard cries of joy from both Talisa and Catelyn.

" _Kepa, skoro syt issi ao kesīr?_ " (Father, why are you here?) Cat inquired through her tears. Ambrose inhaled deeply before responding, stroking her orange hair with one hand.

" _Nyke māstan kesīr syt ao, Catelyn._ " (I came here for you, Catelyn.) He uttered softly. Catelyn froze up as Talisa pulled away from her father's embrace.

"Talisa, my darling, come with me to fetch Ned and Celyna." Sansa said, breaking the silence as she took her third born child's arm in her own, steering her away from her husband and first born.

Once he could see that they were out of ear shot, Ambrose turned his attention back to his stepdaughter. There was a light remnant of a bruise on her left jaw, and the shadow of a scrape on her left cheekbone. She had limped over to him, and he noticed the cane that was lying abandoned by the bed of peonies. His heart ached for his stepdaughter's pain. He loved her as if she were his own flesh and blood, and the fact that someone had brutalized her, _raped_ her, made him hot with rage.

" _Kepa, kostagon īlon pirtir?"_ (Father, may we sit?) She asked quietly. He nodded before kissing her forehead and helping her onto a wicker bench that was decorated with little Baratheon stags.

"How have you been, my darling?" Ambrose asked as he took one of her hands into both of his own. His stepdaughter sighed.

"Well, I've been doing better than I was a few weeks ago. However, due to the recent death of my Lady aunt, Meera Stark, and the early cancellation of the tourney, things have been... dull, to say the least." Her voice was beginning to hitch, and as she lowered her gaze to the ground, Ambrose could see tears in her bright blue eyes. He took his thumb and wiped the tears from her eyes and brought her face up so that their eyes met.

"My sweet, sweet Catelyn. I remember the day that you were born. Your mother had been sure that you would be a boy, and she had dreaded the prospect of raising your father's son. But when I was allowed to enter the room and meet you, I swear, I still to this day have never seen anyone as blissful as your mother was holding you in her arms. She loves you now just as much as she did on the day of your birth. Shortly before Ned was born, I was afraid that I would love him more than I loved you, as he is my child by blood. Yet I can honestly say that I love you as well as all seven of your siblings. You may not be mine by both blood and law, but you are mine by the will of the gods. You are mine by my heart. You may not believe me, but you carry your mother's strength inside you. I know few people that would persevere through your situation, yet you carry on, bright eyed with your head held high. You are the daughter of a woman who lost her parents and two of her brothers at a young age. She wept for them, she mourned her innocence, yet the number of tears shed does not determine one's weakness. The ability to continue going forth despite your fear does. You have kept going, and that, my daughter, has made the world of a difference." Ambrose looked into his stepdaughter's river blue eyes as they began to water. She didn't say anything, and she didn't need to. She wrapped her slender arms around her step father's neck and they embraced. Ambrose loved his wife and children with all his heart, and he only hoped that he would not have to lose any of them for a long, long time, the way that the Stark family had lost Lady Meera.

_JYANA_

Life no longer held any joy. When Jyana and her brother heard the news of their mother's passing, they had run hand in hand to her guest chambers at the Maester's tower to see if it was true. There they found their father sitting by her side. A sheet had been placed over Lady Stark's dead body, yet her lord husband had refused to move from her side. He didn't need to speak a word to his children. He simply embraced them as they both wept for their mother, his tears shedding in silence.

They would be headed up to Winterfell within a fortnight. The tourney was cancelled due to the dangers that it posed to house Baratheon and their extended family.

Jyana was only speaking to her brother at this point, as Jojen was the only one who truly understood her pain. Their father however, was not speaking to anyone. He allowed his sisters and cousin to comfort him, yet he never responded with anything more than a phrase or two. Everyone who saw Lord Stark could see that his wife's death had numbed him.

Jyana had always admired her lord father. Despite his inability to walk, he had been a good father, ever present in his children's lives. He had also been an honorable and well loved Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. But most of all, he showed Jyana what true happiness was. He found bliss in his children and joy in his wife. However, now that his wife was gone, he was merely a ghost of the man that he once was.

It was the day before they would be departing for Winterfell when Jyana was approached by her grey eyed aunt. She was in her guest chambers, packing her belongings, when Lady Baratheon arrived.

"Jyana?" Arya Baratheon said her name as if it were a question. The green eyed Stark looked up from her trunk where she was packing away her clothes.

"Hello Aunt Arya." She greeted her quietly. Her aunt stepped further into the room, still dressed in mourning black. Jyana felt a wave of grief wash over her as she remembered the dark garments that everyone wore was for her own mother. "With all due respect, why are you here?" Jyana asked, her voice barely above a murmur. Arya closed the door behind her and paused, as if unsure of what to do next.

"I just wanted to check up on you, make sure that you're alright." Jyana gave a single joyless laugh in response. Arya nodded once, as if in understanding. "I lost my mother when I was young. Younger than you, actually." Arya said, almost casually.

"I know." Jyana replied shortly. Lady Baratheon studied her niece's face as the green eyed Stark kept busy with her packing.

"When my mother died, I had already lost my father. I then lost my eldest brother and his pregnant wife. I never knew Talisa, but I had lost her and her unborn babe nonetheless. I'll never forget the night of the red wedding. I was so close to reuniting with my mother and Robb, but the Freys had slaughtered them and marched their bodies through the streets, as if they were trophies from a hunt." Lady Baratheon continued. Jyana whipped around to face her aunt, tears beginning to pool in her green eyes.

"Why are you telling me this?" She demanded, clenching the fabric of a gown in her fists.

"Because I want you to appreciate what you have. You have your father, you have your brother, and you have your home. That's more than I could have said when I was your age. I know that sharing the pain of losing a parent doesn't lessen it, but if you put everything in perspective, you can learn to cope. Now, I'm not telling you not to grieve. If it pleases you, by all means, do mourn and weep for your mother each and every night before you fall asleep. I know that I do. But you must remember that you have it better than most, and that you should be grateful that the gods have not taken more from you." Arya paced her words well, not allowing them to burst out of her mouth uncontrollably, without sounding too careful. Jyana was at a loss for words. She had never thought about the pain that her aunts and father had faced. Now that she was thinking about it, she realized that her father had lost two brothers and both of his parents before the age of sixteen. She swallowed before responding.

"I want to feel grateful. Truly, I do. But I can't. There's too much pain to focus on anything but the pain itself. I just want my mother back." Jyana managed to choke out the words before her tears overcame her and she began to sob. She stood and allowed her aunt to hold her in her arms as she wept into her shoulder.

"Shh, shh. It's alright. Let it all out, my dear, let it out." Arya whispered as she stroked her niece's dark curls of hair. They stood there for some time before Jyana was able to gather herself together. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks as she pulled away from her aunt.

"Thank you, Aunt Arya." She said with a shuddering breath.

"Come to me whenever you need me. I will always be here to help you." She responded. Jyana nodded as her aunt turned and left her guest chambers after gently kissing her forehead.

_TALLOND_

Tallond had never gotten on too well with Lady Jyana Stark. They just never seemed to be speaking to one another at the right time. One of them was always angry, and they never seemed to agree on anything. They always ended up shouting at each other whenever they spoke, so they spoke very rarely.

And now they were to be married.

The journey up to Winterfell was a fairly pleasant one. The weather was nice, and his brothers were actually consistently kind for once. They seemed to pity him due to the match that their parents had made for him. His sister was regaining her livelihood and happiness, despite her impending marriage to Prince Rhaegar II Targaryen. She got on well with the prince, but it was clear that she did not want to marry him from the way that she avoided any and all conversation about him and the way her face fell whenever someone spoke the word _marriage_

It was dawn when Tallond awoke at the inn in Wintertown, just outside of their mother's childhood home. He shared a room with his siblings, while his parents, aunt Sansa and Uncle Ambrose, and Uncle Bran all had their own bedchambers. When everyone else awakened, they would ride for Winterfell and stay for a maximum time of a full moon turn before all of the Baratheon children would be headed to their new homes with their new spouses. As he sat up and looked around, he found that only his sister was awake. Lyanna had donned a simple grey dress with her hair hanging over her shoulder in a plain braid tied with a string.

"Good morning Lya." He whispered as he slipped out of the large bed that he shared with Jon and Ryle. She turned from the window where she stood and gave her brother a small smile as he stretched.

"Good morning Tallond." She said softly as she grabbed a plain black cloak from a hook on the wall.

"Where are you going?" He asked quietly as he began to dress himself. He tried to do so as quietly as possible so as to not wake Jon and Ryle.

"I'm going to go for a morning ride. Would you like to join me?" Tallond shrugged and nodded as he slipped on his boots. Lyanna tossed him a plain black cloak and they tip toed out of the room.

Dawn had barely broken, and they seemed to be the only two people awake in the entire inn. The youngest Baratheons crept into the stables and readied their horses before mounting. They didn't race their horses. The two siblings didn't say a word, but they both seemed to understand that they would simply be walking. It was relaxing just to stroll through the morning fog in the wolfswood with his sister by his side on the back of a slow horse. Suddenly, Lyanna dismounted her mare and handed the reins to her brother.

"Lya? What are you doing?" He asked as he dismounted his own horse and tied the reins to a small tree. His sister began to run. "Lyanna!" He called as he began to run after her. Her grey skirts were flowing behind her in the wind, despite the fact that she had the front of her skirts bunched up in her hands. Suddenly, she stopped. She was standing in front of a bush of blue flowers, catching her breath as she stared at the plants.

"These are blue winter roses." She murmured. Tallond looked to his sister with confusion.

"Yes? What is the point of all this?" He asked, clearly not understanding Lyanna's strange behavior. Her face was solemn as she knelt before the winter roses.

"I was named for mother's aunt, Lyanna Stark. It was rumored that she always adored blue winter roses." Tallond furrowed his brows, still very confused. "Lady Lyanna Stark married Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Their marriage resulted in both of their deaths and the birth of King Jon Targaryen. I'm to marry the new Rhaegar Targaryen." Tallond had nearly given up on trying to understand his sister, so he decided to ask one last time what this all meant.

"What does that mean? Why are you telling me this?" Lyanna looked up from the bushes, her silvery grey eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"Lyanna Stark died giving birth to Rhaegar's child. She was only a bit older than I am now when she perished." She paused and looked back to the blue winter roses. "What if I'm to meet the same fate?" She added, her voice barely above a whisper. Tallond nodded his head slowly, now beginning to understand.

"Lya, think of Mother. She bore four healthy children, no miscarriages, nor any stillbirths. And Aunt Sansa has born eight! Our grandmother, Catelyn Stark, bore five healthy children. Our great grandmother, Lyarra Stark, bore four healthy children. Our other great grandmother, Cassana Baratheon, bore three healthy children. Lya, the odds are on your side. The women in our family are strong. You're a Baratheon and our seed is strong. We've got the Stark blood as well. House Stark one of the most ancient houses of all of Westeros, and it has survived for thousands of years because of the strong ladies who brought forth little sons and daughters of Winter." He was kneeling with Lyanna at this point, trying to comfort her. However, despite his insistence, he was starting to doubt the words coming out of his own mouth. They had no knowledge of their paternal grandmother's fertility. She could have very well had many stillbirths or miscarriages before she bore their father. And their mother's maternal grandmother, Lady Minisa Whent, had many still births and miscarriages, and had died in childbed. He wanted to believe that Lya would be strong, that she would be able to bear healthy children and live. Yet she was only fourteen, and women who had children that young often didn't make it out of their birthing beds. He only prayed that the prince would wait to impregnate her, or that perhaps there would be a midwife or maester kind and discreet enough in the Red Keep to slip her some moon tea after the prince had fucked her. The thought of that dragon spawn having his way with little Lya made Tallond's blood boil.

"Thank you, dear brother." She uttered softly, yet Tallond could tell that she was only saying so to get him to stop talking. The two siblings mounted their horses and rode back to the inn in silence, where they were joined with the rest of their party to ride for Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I've been out for a while now, and I'm so sorry to have left you hanging like that. Special thanks to Kaitlynn for giving me the inspiration to finish up this chapter! I hope that you guys enjoy!


	14. Gendry/Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gendry discovers his daughter's fear, and Arya has a dream.

_GENDRY_

It had been years since Gendry had been to Winterfell. He had not visited since Jojen's tenth nameday two years prior, yet the ancient seat of house Stark had not changed at all. As they all dismounted their horses in the courtyard, Gendry closed his eyes and inhaled the soft scent of wood, stone, and dirt, recalling his time as blacksmith at Winterfell, before all the children, before all the separation. A stable boy took the reins of Lord Baratheon's horse and the storm lord opened his eyes to walk over to his daughter, who had been entirely quiet on the ride from the inn at Wintertown.

"Are you doing alright, Lyanna?" He asked, hugging her to his side briefly. She nodded.

"I'm doing fine." She murmured quietly. Gendry furrowed his brows and lifted her chin so that her gaze met his.

"What's wrong?" He asked, almost sternly. She sighed and pushed his hand off of her chin.

"You know what's wrong." She snapped before taking her skirts in her hands and walked into the crypts of Winterfell.

Gendry felt a pang of guilt in his heart as he followed his daughter down the stony staircase. He knew that she was too young to wed, and he didn't want to go through with the wedding, at least not now. She was four moon turns from becoming five and ten, which was still far too young for a girl to become a wife in his mind. Lya was running down the stairs, Gendry running after her. When they finally reached the first level, she kept walking until she reached the grave of her namesake.

"Lady Lyanna Stark. She died in childbed giving birth to her first and only son, his grace the king Jon Targaryen." She then moved on to a tomb with no statue next to the tomb of Lord Rickard Stark. "Lady Lyarra Stark. Never fully recovered from childbirth with her fourth and final child, and died six months later." She moved to another statue-less tomb. "Lady Arya Flint. Died in childbed with a stillborn son." Lyanna kept going, naming the causes of death of almost all of the deceased ladies of Winterfell. They went down two more levels before Gendry stopped her.

"Lya, what are you doing?" His daughter turned around, her jaw clenched.

"Almost all of these women, women who's blood I share, have died in childbed. Some of them fully grown adults. I am four and ten and I'm to be married to a prince. I will be expected to share a marriage bed with him, to give him children. How do I know that I won't die like my ancestors?" She demanded, tears of anger and fear brimming her grey eyes. Gendry's voice caught in his throat. The thought of her dying in childbirth had never occurred to him, yet now he was more afraid than ever.

"I'll not let you die, Lyanna. I swear it by the old gods and the new, I will not let you die." He whispered as he wrapped his arms around his only daughter. He began to stroke her hair, thinking of ways to keep her from getting pregnant. Perhaps he could threaten the prince, but he would have no way of carrying out those threats from Storm's End. Perhaps he could ask Jon to slip her moon tea each morning. Yes, yes, that would work. His old friend would help him protect his daughter.

They broke apart as they heard footsteps, seeing Arya Baratheon coming down the spiral stone staircase.

"Come, Gendry, come Lya. It's time for supper." She announced.

That night, the Baratheons supped with the Maegyrs and the Starks. Bran had seemed to be even more sullen since his arrival back home. It was his first time back at Winterfell without his wife, and Gendry could see clearly the effects that it had on the warden of the North. After supper, Gendry left for the godswood to pray. He recalled praying before that particular weirwood many, many times in the past. He had prayed for Arya countless times before she had returned to him. He had prayed for the safety of his wife during her pregnancy with Jon before they left for Storm's End. He had prayed for the health of his firstborn when he first found out that Arya was with child. Now, as he knelt before one of the many faces of the old gods, he began to pray that the gods would not take the family that he had prayed for over the years.

_ARYA_

_Arya Baratheon._ Arya was thinking of her name as she signed it at the end of a letter to Jon. When she had married Gendry, everyone had been surprised at the fact that she had decided to take his last name. She had always been proud of her family name, and she had fought so hard to keep it in the past. Yet she had chosen to let it go. When Gendry asked her about it on their wedding night, she had been lying next to him, naked as her nameday, after they had made love.

 _"As a girl, all I wanted to do was have adventures. I hated the prospect of being a lady, and I dreamed of a day when I could leave home to be free from my responsibilities. Arya Stark got her adventures, but Arya Baratheon wants a different life. I'm ready to settle down now. I never want to go back to my life as a killer where I slept in fear, hounded from place to place. I want to come home to the sounds of children howling with laughter, in a home that never moves, with a loving husband, and a family I can call my own. Arya Stark never wanted that, but Arya Baratheon does."_ She set down her quill, shivering as she wrapped her robe tighter around her body. She turned around when she heard her door open, seeing Gendry sauntering in. She stood with a smile and planted a kiss on her husband's lips.

"Where have you been, my love?" Arya asked as she helped him take off his furs and leathers.

"I was out praying in the godswood." He replied before removing his leather jerkin and tunic, revealing his bare chest. His wife nodded in response before the two climbed into their bed. 

"Do you remember the first time that we slept in this bed together?" Gendry asked as he snuggled up against his wife. Arya smiled as she recalled the memory.

"I do. You woke up hard as a rock, and when I pointed it out, you blushed and stuttered before hurrying back to the forge." She said with a laugh. Gendry yawned and stretched out his legs.

"I'm going to get to sleep. Goodnight my love." Arya turned to kiss her husband before she, in turn, fell into a deep slumber.

_Arya was sitting on a small row boat on a river. She could see her children playing on one side of the riverbank. They were running around, laughing, joking and every so often, two of them would sit and continue a game of cyvasse before standing back up and running again. Suddenly, a familiar voice spoke from in front of her._

_"Arya," The former Stark whipped her head around to see her mother, Catelyn Stark, sitting opposite her on a blue cushion. "It's your move." She said with a soft smile. Arya was dumbstruck at the sight of her mother. She looked just the way that she had when Arya was a girl, the last time that she had seen her alive._

_"Mother?" She asked, uncertain if the woman before her could be real._

_"It's your turn, Arya." She said patiently, gesturing to the space between them. Lady Baratheon looked down and saw a chess board. She moved a pawn, but her mother had her in checkmate within a few more moves. Arya leaned back, examining the chess board, wondering where she went wrong._

_"Your children are lovely." Catelyn spoke softly, looking to her grandchildren playing on the riverbank. Arya gazed to her sons and daughter as a small smile crept upon her lips._

_"Thank you." She whispered._

_"It's your move, Arya." Lady Baratheon turned back to the chess table and saw that her mother had already rearranged the pieces and moved a pawn. They played another short game in which Arya made little progress before Catelyn beat her._

_"I don't want to play anymore." Arya said, crossing her arms stubbornly. Catelyn gave a knowing grin as she began to rearrange the pieces._

_"I'm afraid you have no choice now, my dear. You've already begun." Catelyn made the first move again and defeated Arya swiftly with the same tactic that her daughter could not even begin to understand._

_"How do you do this?" Lady Baratheon asked as her mother rearranged the pieces once more._

_"You learn from the pieces. They will tell you what you must do. Even if they request one move, they may open your eyes to the right move to take, an alternative move, through that request." Arya squinted her eyes at the pawns, the knights, the bishops, the rooks, the queen, and the king, but none of them gave her anymore clarity._

_"How do you know what the right move to take is? There are so many options!" Catelyn simply shrugged as she smiled. "But you always make the right moves, how can you not know?" Arya demanded._

_"I only make the right moves because you always make the wrong ones." Catelyn said with a small laugh. Arya rolled her eyes as she moved a knight. Her mother arched her brow._

_"Smart move, Arya." Catelyn moved a pawn. This time, the game went slower. Slow enough for Arya to start a conversation._

_"Mother?" Catelyn looked up into her daughter's grey eyes._

_"Yes my darling?" Arya gazed over to her children, who were now all swimming in their small clothes, splashing and laughing._

_"How do I keep them safe?" She asked, her eyes still locked on her children. Catelyn sighed as she used her knight to take one of Arya's rooks._

_"You must play this game as well as you can. Listen to the pieces to know what to do." Catelyn paused as she leaned over the chess board and cupped her daughter's cheek in her hand._

_"I never told you how proud I am. You've made me so proud in everything that you've become." Arya placed her hand over her mother's, holding it to her cheek as she closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her cheek._

_"I miss you." Arya whispered._

Then she awoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Quick little update, just because I know that I won't emotionally be able to write for a while, so I wanted to give you something to much on while I work on the next chapter:) Thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a comment!


	15. Ambrose/Simon/Talisa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things move very fast and marriages take place.

_AMBROSE_

Lord Maegyr had sent his four eldest children to bed after they arrived at the seat of house Stark. The next morning, breakfast had a somber air hanging over every guest at Winterfell. The Baratheon children had all their betrothals set in stone, and would be leaving for their new homes with their new spouses within the fortnight. Lord Maegyr planned on leaving back for Volantis with Ned, Talisa, and Celyna as soon as Sansa had seen Catelyn safely to the Dreadfort, which would happen within a fortnight's time.

It was still fairly early in the morning when Arya, who had been managing Winterfell for Bran as he grieved, called him to her chambers. A guard led him through the winding stone pathways of the ancient castle until he stepped inside the guest chambers of Lord and Lady Baratheon.

"Arya, you wanted to see me?" Lady Baratheon looked up from reading a raven scroll and smiled politely at her goodbrother.

"Yes, thank you for coming Ambrose." She said before standing and smoothing down her dress. It was a simple light grey dress, the neckline stopping at the base of her neck, long sleeved, with no decorations or patterns. She handed him the raven scroll that she had been looking at when he had entered the room. He began reading the letter aloud.

"To Lord Brandon Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell,

My two eldest sons sons, Ser Hoster of the house Tully and Ser Simon of the house Tully, are traveling North to Winterfell along with their sister, my daughter Lady Athena Tully, and we request that you accept them as your guests. They come with the intention of courting the two eldest daughters and the eldest son of Lady Sansa Maegyr, in hopes of furthering the alliance between Westeros and Volantis." Ambrose paused, his brows furrowed before he continued. "They will seek to obtain the permission and blessing of Lord Ambrose Maegyr before any courtships or betrothals may ensue. Myself and my lady wife greatly appreciate any hospitality and graciousness that you might extend towards our children.

Sincerely,

Lord Edmure of the house Tully, Lord of Riverrun and the Riverlands." Ambrose handed the raven scroll back to his goodsister and rubbed his temples.

"Is this a fucking joke?" He groaned, running his hands through his hair.

"I'm afraid not." Arya said as she set the raven scroll aside.

"I'll have to send off my beloved stepdaughter to inherit a castle that she has never seen before in unfamiliar lands after she has been _raped!_ Now Edmure Tully wants me to give away my next daughter?" He was nearly shouting at this point, frustration and anger washing over the Volantene lord. "If I had known that I would be losing two of my daughters by visiting Westeros, I would have never allowed them to come!" He yelled, panting before looking to Arya. There was a heavy pause before Lady Baratheon spoke up.

"Ambrose, I know that you don't want to hear this, but it could be a good thing thing to have Cat and Talisa married to the Tully boys. Simon Tully was the one who had carried her all the way from town back to the fields of Storm's End the night that she was raped. He's been trained in the ways of castle management should anything happen to Hoster, so having him with Cat at the Dreadfort would not be a bad idea. And as for Talisa and Hoster, she would be safest in Riverrun. If the faceless men decide to go after your children, they will go to Volantis first, where you are well guarded. Your younger children will be safe, as they are easier to guard. By the time the faceless men think to get to Riverrun, I'll have dealt with them." Arya said the last sentence distantly, as if she were lost in thought. Ambrose's face grew soft, and he looked almost as if he were scared.

"Arya, how can I abandon my children?" He asked tenderly, his voice on the verge of breaking. Her stormy grey gaze landed on his obsidian eyes as she walked closer to him.

"Gendry and I have been asking ourselves the exact same question for weeks. The answer lies in the hearts beating in our childrens' chests. I would send all four of my children away forever if it meant their wellbeing and happiness. I love my children more than I could have ever imagined when I was a girl. As parents, we have to protect our children with all that we are, and keeping them close doesn't always mean that we're keeping them safe." She was holding back tears at that point, yet she opened her arms to her goodbrother, and the two embraced, each wishing that they would never have to leave their children.

_SIMON_

The journey from Riverrun to Winterfell was faster than Simon would have imagined. It took them two weeks to get there, which was surprising because it took them a full month to get from Riverrun to Storm's End for the grand tourney. Granted, they did have Rhea, Mother, and Father with them on that journey.

When they arrived at the gates of Winterfell, Lord Gendry Baratheon, Lady Arya Baratheon, and their children received them.

"Ser Hoster, Ser Simon, Lady Athena, welcome to Winterfell! I apologize that my brother Lord Stark could not receive you here, as he is currently predisposed with other matters." Arya greeted the guests with graciousness as the two Tully knights dismounted their horses and the young lady exited her wheelhouse. Simon was the first to respond.

"Please extend our gratitude to Lord Stark for hosting us, Lady Baratheon. We are honored and humbled to be your guests here at Winterfell." The second born Tully said with a warm smile he said as servants began to unpack their belongings.

"Of course, cousin. If you would follow me, I will direct your to your guest chambers." Lady Baratheon said kindly as she turned around and began walking towards the entrance to the great keep. Simon motioned for Hoster and Athena to follow, and the three eldest Tully siblings walked together in silence behind their grey eyed cousin.

Winterfell was a large castle. Every stone in the walls, every creaking floorboard seemed to be filled with the secrets of the 8,000 years that the seat of house Stark had been standing. It was a marvelous castle, and Simon was glad that he wouldn't be living too far from it when he and Catelyn Bolton married. When they arrived at their guest chambers, he and Hoster split off from Athena. Her bedchambers were across the hall from his and his older brother's shared chambers. There were fresh sheets on the two feather beds, and their packs had already been delivered to the room. He and Hoster began to unpack their belongings, going about the task in silence. They had never been the closest of brothers, with Simon being more outgoing and cheerful, whereas Hoster was more quiet and brooding, ever focused on his duty, so conversation never came easy between the two of them.

"How are you feeling about Lady Catelyn?" Hoster said, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air. It was rare that the elder of the two would be the one to start a conversation, so it took Simon by surprise.

"I feel fine. She's a lovely young woman with lots to offer. She's got a good heart, very strong, especially after what she went through at the tourney. She's got a lovely smile." Simon trailed off, thinking Lady Catelyn's smile, grinning softly to himself. Hoster cleared his throat, bringing his younger brother back down to reality. "How do you feel about Lady Talisa?" The younger asked, shaking himself from his thoughts. Hoster shrugged.

"She's a beautiful lady of noble birth. What more could I ask for?" Hoster seemed to be genuinely asking his brother what more there could be to a potential match. Simon had always been the more emotional and romantic one of the two, so his brother's response left him pitying Hoster for not knowing that there was so much more to a match than beauty and nobility.

Before the tense silence could explode the room, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Simon pronounced loudly. The door creaked open to reveal their sister peeking her head in.

"Simon, Lord Ambrose Maegyr would like to meet with you." She said before disappearing back into her own guest chambers across the narrow hallway. The second born Tully was more than eager to leave the room as he shut the heavy oak door behind him and made his way to the next floor up, where Sansa and Ambrose Maegyr were staying in Lady Sansa's childhood bedchambers.

Simon knocked on the door, and it was opened by Lord Ambrose Maegyr a few seconds later. He greeted the young Tully knight with a polite smile.

"Ah, Ser Simon! Do come in, please." Ambrose opened the door wide enough that Simon could enter before closing it behind him. The Volantene lord gestured for him to sit at a small table with three chairs, and the Tully knight complied. Ambrose took a seat across the small table from Simon and took a deep breath. "Ser Simon, do you know why I've asked you here?" The Volantene lord asked. Simon shook his head.

"No, my lord." He replied. Ambrose nodded.

"I've asked you here to discuss your plans to court and marry my eldest daughter, Catelyn." He pronounced the words calmly, yet there was an air of power to his deep voice, thick with a Volantene accent. "Before you answer, I would like to let you know that you have my blessing. However, you should know what you'll be getting yourself into. My Cat has a sweet and tender heart, but after what happened at the tourney, she has been timid, scared, and quiet. You should know that she may not be fully willing to consummate your marriage on your wedding night, due to her recent trauma." As Ambrose paused, Simon nodded.

"Yes, my lord. I am more than willing to wait for her." He said the words as if he had been reciting them for weeks, yet he truly meant what he said.

"And Simon. When the time comes that she be ready for intimacy, be gentle. She is my eldest child, and I love her as if she were my own blood. Please, do not inflict any more harm upon my sweet Cat." The Volantene no longer seemed to be a powerful triarch of Volantis and lord of castle Maegyr, but was simply a father, begging his daughter's betrothed to be soft with her.

"Of course, my lord. I wouldn't wish any harm upon Lady Catelyn. I will take great care of her, for I am learning what a treasure she is." Simon spoke the words softly, a gentle smile forming upon his lips. Ambrose smiled gratefully at his soon to be son by law.

"Thank you, Ser Simon. May the gods bless your marriage with my daughter." The two men stood before Ambrose spoke up again. "I would suggest that you spend more time with Catelyn. She is taking a walk with her sisters through the gardens." The Volantene suggested with a smile. Simon returned the grin before nodding and leaving for the gardens of Winterfell.

When he arrived at the gardens he almost instantly spotted Cat's fiery orange hair against the greenery of the greenhouse. She was walking arm in arm with her sisters, Talisa and Celyna, their black hair done up in Northern styles of a tamed knot of braids at the back of their heads with the rest of their black hair flowing free, while Cat had opted for a simple, long, Volantene braid that hung over her shoulder. Simon approached the three sisters and smiled at them, with a polite bow of the head.

"My ladies." He greeted the Volantene sisters politely.

"Hello Simon." Cat was the first to greet him. She had smiled politely, warmth radiating behind the mannered grin.

"Cat, might I have the pleasure of joining you on a walk?" He asked with a charming smile. Cat returned the smile with a nod of her head as she took her hands out from the crooks of Talisa and Celyna's arms and took Simon's arm in their place.

They walked through the gardens and towards the godswood, exchanging pleasantries and stories of their past. Simon talked about the Dornish sunsets from when he had been fostered at Sunspear, and how the Dornish common folk would dive deep beneath the surface of lakes and the sea to collect underwater jewels, such as pearls. Catelyn spoke of the hot days of summer in Volantis when every child in the city would run down to swim in the cool, refreshing waters of the Rhoyne. Eventually, they reached the heart tree of the godswood, the ancient weirwood, and Simon took both of Cat's hands in his own, facing her.

"Cat, do you know why I'm here? At Winterfell?" He asked her softly. She shook her head slowly.

"No. Why are you here?" She inquired as Simon smiled softly.

"I'm here to ask for your hand in marriage. Your father has given me his blessing, and if you accept my proposal, I swear to you, I will make you happy for the rest of your days. I will do everything in my power to protect you from any harm that you might face, and I will do everything in my power to ensure yours and our children's happiness and wellbeing. So, Lady Catelyn Bolton, will you marry me?" Cat smiled giddily at the Tully knight.

"Yes," She said softly, already dreaming of a life of joy.

_TALISA_

Hoster had not been half as romantic when he proposed. Talisa has confronted her parents about the betrothal, and once they told her that he had been given their blessing, she knew that there was no way that she was escaping the engagement. So, with a heavy heart, she accepted Hoster Tully's proposal. The look of relief and joy that came over his face when she said 'Yes' made her feel instantly guilty, as she had not been the one who would be marrying Simon. She had been forced to swallow the lump in her throat and hold back her tears when she heard the news of her sister's engagement to the second born Tully. She had foolishly thought that perhaps she might marry into happiness, into love, and into hope. But women so rarely got what they wanted out of marriage, and she had been a fool to think that she could be happy in her married life.

Despite the fact that she had fallen for Simon, she loved Catelyn far more than she would ever love any man, so she bit her tongue and cheered for her sister and new goodbrother when they were married ten days later. She held back her tears when Hoster placed his Tully cloak around her shoulders and sealed their vows with a kiss the next day. Yet the hardest part of it all was her wedding night.

The feast went far too quickly. Her mother had told her not to be afraid, her father told her to shout if Hoster hurt her in the slightest, her sisters wished her luck, and her brother simply held her close. The bedding ceremony was awful, as the knights and lords and lordlings in attendance ripped her clothes off of her until she was running to the chambers were she would give up her maidenhood in nothing but her small clothes.

When Talisa slammed the door behind her, she found that Hoster was already in the chambers, pouring himself a glass of wine. They made eye contact, neither knowing what to say, the silence hanging heavy in the air. Finally, the Tully knight spoke up.

"Would you like some arbor gold?" He asked. Talisa shook her head. "Are you sure? It will help with the nerves." The Volantene paused before hurrying over to the small table and pouring herself a glass of wine and downing it quickly. Then she poured herself another glass. And after that, one last one. Finally, she felt calm enough to look into her new husband's river blue eyes.

"I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. I want to make you happy, and if I'm making you nervous, just tell me, and I'll stop doing whatever it is that makes you nervous, but of course, you'll have to tell me what it is that I do that makes you nerv—" Hoster was cut off by Talisa's gaze. She forced a smile and set down her goblet.

"Let's not waste anymore time. We both know what we have to do, so I say, let's consummate the marriage and be done with it." She stated very plainly. Hoster nodded, and leaned down to kiss his new wife. As she removed her smallclothes with shaking hands, she wondered if he was as nervous as she. When he entered her, she felt tears brimming in her eyes, and decided that he couldn't be anywhere near as terrified as she was. She fell asleep that night with tears in her eyes and her husband's seed in her belly, wishing for the warm sun of Volantis, which she feared she might never see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! Sorry that this chapter felt so rushed, I just needed to get some marriages squared away before we can get to the good stuff. Thank you as always for being so patient! I appreciate you guys so much, thanks for reading!!


	16. Lyanna/Jyana/Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lyanna bids farewell, Tallond and Jyana are married, and Arya and Lya arrive as guests in the Red Keep.

_LYANNA_

After Lyanna's cousin, Ned Maegyr, was wed to Lady Athena Tully, her brother Tallond, would be wed to Lady Jyana Stark. Lya always enjoyed the company of the elder of the two Stark children, and she hardly understood why her brother didn't get on well with her as well. She was very close with Tallond, the two having always been closer with each other than they were with Jon or Ryle, and she was surprised to be finding herself oddly calm with the wedding only an hour away. She knew, however, that Tallond would not be nearly as calm as she, so she made her way to his guest chambers.

Lyanna knocked on the door to Tallond's guest chambers, only to be met with her brother's voice from inside telling her to go away.

"Tallond, it's me, Lya." She said, hoping for a better response. A moment passed before the heavy oak door opened. Tallond's shoulder length black hair was a mess of tangles and knots, his bright blue eyes were bloodshot, and underneath his eyes, dark bags showed evidence of a lack of sleep. "May I come in?" Lyanna asked softly before her brother opened the door wider. She stepped into his chambers before he closed the door behind her. She looked around the room as she sat on the edge of the bed, trying hard not to look at Tallond for a new fear that she may break down in sobs knowing that she may never see her brother again after that day. It looked as though it hadn't been used in a long while, as there was dust covering most of the books and surfaces. The furs and blankets on the bed were new, but no one had bothered to dust away the cobwebs on the window. She finally looked back to her brother who was sitting at a table with his head in his hands.

"Are you alright?" Lyanna asked, concern flooding her soft and comforting voice. Tallond looked up, his eyes watering and red, a sad smile forced on his lips.

"In an hour, I'll be committing my life to a woman with whom I can barely talk with without the conversation turning into a shouting match. I don't know anyone in Greywater Watch, or the entire crannogs for that matter. I've not considered myself a particularly sentimental person, but all of a sudden I'm being forced to give up everything that I know at the age of five and ten so I can marry someone I can't get along with and live with her in a castle that I've never even seen. So, with all of that, I find myself already missing our home in Storm's End. I knew the day would come when I would leave, but I never knew that day would have come so soon." Tallond's voice began to break, tears brimming his eyes before the two siblings stood in unison and embraced each other, silent tears streaming down their faces.

They stood that way for a long while, knowing that the end of their innocent adolescence was soon to come to an end. So they clung to each other, crying softly, without saying a word, as if they were clinging to the last bit of their innocence and youth.

When their father entered the room to call them down to the godswood for the wedding, the two siblings broke apart, dried their eyes, and exited Tallond's guests chambers.

The wedding went on with ease and without sentiment. The feast afterward, however, was different. It had almost seemed a lively occasion, until some drunken man announced that it was time for the bedding ceremony. Jyana's green eyes went wide with panic as the men approached her to rip off her clothes. As they did so, she shouted to her father, begging for help, sobbing, pleading for him to allow her to remain a virgin, at least for some time. Lord Brandon Stark did not respond, but once his only daughter had left for her wedding chambers with Tallond, the crippled lord broke down in sobs.

The next day, when Lyanna said her farewells to Jon, Ryle, Tallond, and her father, she almost felt a tinge of sadness, a raging monster of despair that was demanding to be felt from underneath the numbness. Yet she refused to feel it, not daring to give in to that endless pit of depression as she embraced her eldest brother for quite possibly the last time ever.

"Stay strong, Little Lya. I love you more than you could ever know." Jon whispered as he held her tight in his arms.

"Farewell Jon." She managed to say with a quivering voice before the two broke apart. Lyanna then turned to her next eldest brother, Ryle, and held back her tears once more.

"I want you to know that I'll be sending letters every single day from Evenfall Hall. I want to hear about everything that goes on in King's Landing." Ryle told his sister, holding her face in his hands. Lyanna managed a smile and nodded before embracing him. As she and Ryle broke apart, she turned to Tallond, and the flood she was holding behind her eyes threatened to break.

"I'll miss you Lya." He said as they held each other tight in their arms.

"I'll miss you too, Tallond." She whispered, not daring to allow her eyes to water. They separated quickly, knowing that if they didn't, they might never leave. Finally, she turned to her father.

"My sweet girl. I recall the day you were born. I wish you didn't have to leave us so soon." Lord Baratheon's voice broke as he began to weep, holding his only daughter close to him. Lyanna had never seen her father cry before, and it was too much for her to handle. The growing storm inside her broke loose, and she began to sob loudly against her father's chest. She tried to stop, trying to bottle her emotions back up again, but it was no use. After a few moments, her father stepped back, drying his eyes, as her mother gently guided her towards their wheelhouse where they would be riding to King's Landing.

Lyanna continued to sob and weep into the night, and when the end to her tears finally came, she felt a numb emptiness that left her feeling as if she were dead.

_JYANA_

As soon as the door to Jyana's wedding chambers closed behind her, she felt her heart racing. She slowly turned around, her new husband standing in only his breeches across the room, having been stripped of his other clothes during the bedding ceremony. She hadn't managed to fight off the crude lordlings and knights who had torn off her wedding gown, leaving her in her small clothes, yet the embarrassment of her state of undress was nothing compared to the raging fear of giving herself to Tallond. The elder Stark child found herself wishing more than ever for her mother's comforting embrace and words of encouragement. She closed her eyes and almost heard her mother's voice whispering in her ear, _You are a Stark of Winterfell, a direwolf and a daughter of winter. You have the blood of the Reeds of Greywater Watch, you are a lizard-lion of the crannogs. You are stronger than your fear._ Jyana stood up straight, wiping her eyes and mustering all the courage that she had left, she looked her new husband in his bright blue eyes.

"Well?" She spat, her heart racing.

"Well what?" He replied, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Aren't you going to fuck me?" She hissed, her voice seething with anger and pain. He didn't respond. The youngest of the Baratheon sons simply walked towards her from across the room, and Jyana felt her heart crawl into her throat, instantly regretting having said anything. But instead of kissing her, Tallond went to the small table next to her and grabbed a small dinner knife. He then walked over to their marriage bed and cut his thumb, blood instantly seeping from the wound. "What are you doing?" She asked, confused. Without even looking up at her, Tallond pressed his bleeding thumb to the middle of the mattress before replying.

"I'm consummating our marriage." Jyana's brow furrowed in confusion before Tallond stood up tall and continued his statement. "When your handmaidens come in the morning to change the sheets, they are to report if there was a stain of the blood of your maidenhead to your father. There's no way of them knowing that the blood on the sheets came from my thumb rather than your maidenhead. I'll not rape my wife, not even if duty requires it." He said shortly. Jyana's green eyes went wide, at first in shock, but then began to water in joy. In her state of immense gratitude, she found herself embracing Tallond.

"Thank you." She choked out against his chest.

"You're welcome." He whispered back to her as he tenderly embraced her. That night, the two slept on opposite sides of the bed, both sleeping peacefully for the first time since they learned of their betrothal.

_ARYA_

Few times had Arya Baratheon felt as afraid as she did on the day that she and her only daughter arrived in King's Landing for Lyanna's wedding. Her daughter was three months from becoming five and ten, which was when she would be married to the prince. Arya would remain as a royal guest until the day of her daughter's wedding, when she would return to Storm's End, to Gendry. Three months would not be enough time to say goodbye to her only daughter, especially considering the fact that she might never see her sweet girl again. As they rode through the streets of King's Landing, Arya recalled arriving there when she was nothing but a small girl who barely knew how to swing a sword. She and Lya were passing through Flea Bottom when they passed the street where Arya remembered meeting her dear husband for the first time. Seeing that place where she had met her dearest Gendry made her feel strong again, and reminded her of how much she had to be strong for.

When they arrived at the Red Keep, she was welcomed by the Lord Hand of the King and Queen, Tyrion Lannister in the great hall. 

"Lady Baratheon, Lady Lyanna, a pleasure to see you both once again." The dwarf greeted the two ladies Baratheon politely, and Arya smiled warmly at him as she and her daughter curtsied in greeting.

"A pleasure to see you as well, Lord Tyrion. It's been far too long." Arya said politely as they followed him into the throne room.

"Arya!" Lady Baratheon's cousin, King Jon Targaryen, bellowed her name from across the throne room. The grey eyed lady felt tears brimming her eyes as she ran towards her cousin, the two colliding in a warm and great embrace.

"I'm so happy to see you." Arya whispered as she squeezed her cousin closer to her and he reciprocated the gesture.

"As am I." Jon said softly.

The king was her brother in all but name, and they had always been closer to each other than with their other siblings. Before she and Gendry had moved to Storm's End, they lived in Winterfell with Jon, Bran, and Meera, where their firstborn child was born. When the midwife announced that Arya had given birth to a healthy baby boy, there was debate between herself and Gendry for an entire fortnight over his name. Lady Baratheon recalled the memory fondly.

_"His name should be a family name. Why not Robert? We can call him Robb, and that way he's been named for both my father and your brother." Gendry said as he had been getting himself dressed. His wife shook her head as she fed their son at her breast. For the past two weeks, Arya had been exhausted, confused, and emotional. Having a child was much harder than her sister had made it seem, with waking up every hour of the night to feed her son along with working out all of the details of Gendry's inheriting the castle of Storm's End, which had been held by Baratheon loyalists after Renly's death._

_"This is our firstborn son, I'll not give him the name of a man who was brutally killed. That has bad fortune written all over it." She had said, her voice getting tight with the memory of her brother's murder._

_"Well, if we're not naming him for a dead family member, who are we naming him for?" Gendry had demanded while Arya had racked her brain, searching for an answer to her husband's question._

_"Someone who brought us together, someone special to the both of us." She paused for a moment before the answer struck her. She smiled down at her newborn babe suckling at her breast with his name fresh in her mind. "Jon." She said softly._

_Gendry had paused and knelt down to be eye level with his seated wife before gingerly cupping her face with one hand._

_"I love you, Arya. And I love our little Jon."_

The lady of Storm's End and the King of the seven kingdoms of Westeros broke apart as Queen Daenerys walked towards them with a warm smile on her lips, and a protective right hand over the slight swell of her belly.

"Welcome back to the capital, Arya! And Lyanna, I suppose that this is your first time in King's Landing, correct?" The silver haired queen asked, addressing both the lady of Storm's End and her daughter. Lya nodded, and her eyes went to the ground.

"Yes, my queen." Lyanna said quietly. Dany gave a small chuckle.

"There's no need for such formalities, Lyanna, we're going to be mother and daughter in a matter of months, even if only by law. Call me Daenerys." The silver haired queen smiled warmly as she stepped towards the grey eyed Baratheon and squeezed her arm in a soft and comforting manner. Lyanna brought her gaze up from the floor to meet the kind, amethyst eyes of the mother of dragons, and for the first time since she had formed her daughter's betrothal, Arya felt as if her daughter might have a happy life in the Red Keep as the new princess.

That night, Arya was shown to her chambers, which were across the hall from Lya's. Both of the ladies Baratheon had retired to their beds early, and as soon as Arya's head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep slumber.

_She was back on the small row boat, seated on comfortable cushions on a river, watching her four children play on the riverbank._

_"It's your move again, darling." Lady Baratheon whipped her head around to see her mother, Catelyn Stark, seated across from her, a game of chess in between them. She was wearing a simple jade green robe like before, her auburn hair hung over her shoulder in a simple Northern style braid._

_"Mother," Arya whispered, tears brimming her eyes at the sight of her long dead parent right before her, looking the exact way that she did on the last day that Arya had seen her as an eleven year old girl. "Mother, there's so much I must tell you, I—"_

_"Hush now darling, you may speak while you make a move." Catelyn said, kind but firm. Arya moved a pawn, barely thinking of what that move might lead to as she opened her mouth to speak again._

_"Mother, I've had my youngest boy married to Bran's only daughter, and in three months time, my only daughter will be married to Jon's only son. You have to help me Mother, I don't know anything about any of this! I'm going in so blind, Mother, I just wish— " Arya was rambling as the auburn haired ghost in front of her moved a knight and held up a finger to shush her younger daughter._

_"Move a piece and then continue." Catelyn murmured, her demeanor calm and patient, as if she had been through this a thousand times before, and had learned how to guide the other player through the game. Arya quickly moved a pawn without a second thought before continuing._

_"I just wish that you were here to guide me. You always knew what to do. How do I go on with all this?" She demanded, her voice beginning to break. Catelyn looked her daughter in the eye as she moved another piece._

_"You must simply keep on pushing through, my love. There is no way to plan for the future. You must simply predict, prepare, and hope that your predictions were accurate." Catelyn paused as the two mothers looked to the four Baratheon siblings all laughing and playing and chatting on the riverbank. "Look at your children. They all are so beautiful. Jon is such a strong and sturdy young man. He is just like his father. Honorable, strong, and kind. But he is like you as well. He is resilient, and he will withstand the winter storms that he will face, just like his mother did. And Ryle, he is just like Robb. He is passionate in all that he does, he loves with a ferocity, and has a heart for laughter and play. Sweet Tallond, he has a heart of gold. I often wonder if he is like Bran, or perhaps Rickon, if his wild nature had softened with age. And Lyanna. She is just like you, my love. She is fierce, willful, passionate, and strong. She is naive, but she adapts to every situation that she is thrown into, even if she has yet to realize it. Your children are a reflection of the people in your past and in your present. You must remember to cherish them for the gifts that they are. I wish that I had more time with the six of you." Catelyn whispered the last bit, a lone tear running down her cheek._

_"The six of us?" Arya asked slowly, wanting to be certain that she was hearing correctly._

_"Yes. I mothered five children, and I let my jealousy get in the way of being mother to a sixth. I only wish that I had known the truth of Jon's parentage. I regret having been so cruel to him, and I would regret it still even if he had been the result of your father's adultery. The poor boy grew up with a step mother who could barely stand to look at him, and I could have loved him if I hadn't been so stubborn." At that point, Arya had reached over the chess board and grabbed hold of her mother's hand._

_"I want you to know that Jon forgives you. We all forgive you. The gods only know what I would give to have you, Father, Robb, and Rickon back for just one day. It's all because of this cruel and vicious cycle of revenge. How does it end, Mother? I lost my family and friends to the cycle, the gods know that I've taken that away from others due to it as well. How do I stop it before I lose my children?" Catelyn smiled sadly at her daughter as she reached out and tenderly touched her cheek._

_"You must go back to where it all started. You must go back to go forth, and only then will the cycle end. It will be a dangerous task, and you must know that your children are always in danger. Always remember the words of our house. Winter is coming. There is always a threat that is greater than any petty conflict between lords and ladies, or kings and queens. You have defeated it once before, but now is different. When everything seems to be far too much, just remember that the sun will always rise in the morning, bringing forth a new dawn, and with it, a chance to start over." Catelyn uttered softly. Arya felt tears of frustration beginning to stream down her face._

_"I need you to give me a straight answer! Mother, I need you now more than ever, why can't you help me?" She demanded through her tears of anguish._

_"I wish you all the joy and peace in the world, my dearest daughter, as I am afraid our time is coming to an end." Catelyn said, tears brimming her river blue eyes. "I love you, my dearest Arya. Always remember who you are. You are a Stark by your father, a daughter of winter. But never forget that you also have my blood running through your veins. You are as much a Tully as you are a Stark. You know the words of house Stark. You know that there is always a greater threat than ourselves. But the words of our house by blood are Family, Duty, Honor. Do not forget the honorable duty to your family in the midst of the winter storms. Goodbye, my daughter. I love you with all my heart and soul." Catelyn leaned over as she laid a kiss on her younger daughter's forehead._

Arya awoke to a man's lips planted gently on her forehead. The man was standing, leaning over her bed to have kissed her skin. When he stood straight, Arya smiled.

"Good morning, cousin." Lady Baratheon murmured as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Good morning, Arya." Jon replied with a soft smile.

The lady of Storm's End stretched her limbs before sitting up as her royal cousin sat down on the foot of her bed. Arya looked into her cousin's dark grey eyes. They both gotten their eyes from their Stark parents. Something about that thought led her to recall her dream, which was quickly slipping away from her, the way that snowflakes melted against bare flesh. When she had been little, she used to try to catch the snowflakes to collect, but they always melted against her palms. Arya recalled one such instance, a memory that she had not brought forth in decades.

"Jon, do you remember my fifth nameday?" She inquired. Jon smiled as he nodded his head softly.

"It was colder than Cersei Lannister's heart that day, but that didn't stop all of us from playing in the snow." He said with a light chuckle.

"I remember trying to catch the snowflakes in my hand, so I could collect them. I was so stubborn that I tried to freeze myself so that they couldn't melt on my skin. It had been hours since you, Robb, and Sansa had gone back inside. I remember that Father was away doing something or other that day, and it was my mother that had come and gotten me. She had come outside, a jar in hand, and instead of scolding me for trying to freeze myself, she simple bent down and scooped a heap of snow into the jar. She told me that it would stay in the ice box for me to visit whenever I pleased. I don't know why she encouraged that foolish behavior, but she did. I only wish that you had known her love the way that the rest of us did." Arya whispered the last sentence, and Jon gave a small smile in agreement.

"Aye. I remember that day as well. I remember that your mother couldn't find you anywhere. Finally, she came to me to ask where you might be. She was in tears, she had the whole castle out looking for you. No one had thought to check the godswood. Everyone assumed that it was too far for your tiny legs to carry you on their own accord from across the castle grounds, but I knew you better than most. When Lady Catelyn found you, she had burst into tears of joy and relief. That night, after she had sent the rest of you to bed, she came to my chambers. She thought that I was asleep when she knelt next to my bed. I'll never forget what she said to me that night." Jon paused, and Arya motioned for him to continue. "She told me that she was grateful for me." Arya looked into her cousin's deep grey eyes and felt tears brimming her own. She allowed her eyes to shut and, for the first time since she was a girl, she felt her mother's warm and loving embrace. Arya had always hated that a part of her resented her mother for never loving Jon, but hearing her cousin relay the words of Lady Catelyn Stark from years and years ago, she felt that resentment begin to dissolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAA. Okay I first off want to apologize profusely for not updating in over a month. I have no excuses, except for the one of school starting. This chapter didn't end the way that I wanted it to, but I just wanted to post something rather than perfecting every tiny detail. Thank you so much for reading!!!! Bye bye!!


	17. Cat/Simon/Ryle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cat forms a bond with a new handmaiden, Simon lays with his wife, and Ryle meets someone before something very, very bad happens to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Quick note, this chapter has hot and heavy sexy times in it. So if that isn't up your alley, just skip the Simon part of the chapter.

_CAT_

Lady Catelyn Bolton was now Lady Catelyn Tully of the Dreadfort, wife of Lord Simon Tully. Her mother was accompanying her to her ancestral home, while her father, Ned, Athena, and Celyna had boarded a ship back to Volantis. The night of her wedding, Cat had an episode, her husband's touch throwing her back into the moment of her rape. Simon had seemed to understand, and he gave her the night to recover as he suggested that they go to sleep. She would be forever grateful for his sympathy on that night.

She was planning on consummating their marriage on the night that they would arrive at the Dreadfort, which would be that very night.

Cat, her mother, and her husband had exchanged their mode of transportation from wheelhouse to horseback. When one of their accompanying guards announced that they had nearly arrived at the Dreadfort, Cat felt her heart racing. She brought her horse up to a gallop as she raced up the hill, and stopped at the top to gaze upon the Dreadfort for the very first time.

The view of her birthright was impressive. It was an ancient castle, and for the first time in her life, she seemed to feel the blood of her Bolton father coursing through her veins. She felt strong near the home of her ancestors.

Cat turned to see her mother bringing her horse up next to her, Lady Maegyr's expression turned into one that the Lady of the Dreadfort had never seen before. All warmth and joy had gone from her mother's face, replaced by a cold and harsh expression. It was concerning to Catelyn, her brow furrowed as she shifted in her saddle.

"Are you alright, Mother?" The orange haired Bolton asked. Lady Maegyr did not respond for a few long moments, her river blue eyes staring at the ancient castle with a certain unplaceable upset shining through. Finally, Sansa spoke up.

"We'll be late if we don't show up soon." She uttered before kicking her horse to a gallop and riding towards the front gates.

Cat and Simon settled into the lord's chambers fairly quickly. Soon after arriving, Simon left their chambers to discuss legal matters with Lord Wyman Manderly, leaving the new Lady of the Dreadfort alone in her chambers.

Cat could barely explain the accumulation of emotions that she felt, setting up her belongings in her home. She felt the newness of being in the Dreadfort, having never been there before, yet she felt a sense of belonging that she had never felt in her entire life. In Volantis, she had always felt the comfort of familiarity, but Castle Maegyr was not her bloodright. It was as if her ancestral home had been calling her for her entire life, the castle of house Bolton begging its mistress to take her rightful place as Lady of the Dreadfort. She had never felt such a strong connection to her father's blood, and she could barely wait to find out more about the man who sired her.

Cat was sitting at her vanity in a simple jade green robe, brushing out her long, orange hair when she was drawn out of her thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Come in!" She tossed the words over her shoulder as she continued to run the hairbrush through her fiery locks. The door opened to reveal a slender woman with black hair and slightly slanted obsidian eyes. The woman was dressed in a simple Northern servant style dress, with tight sleeves, a high neck, and a loosely fitted waist. It was a lovely auburn color, and the material looked soft. "I do apologize, I do not know who you are." Catelyn said softly. The woman simply smiled at her lady.

"I am your new handmaiden, my lady." The woman recited, a thick Lorathi accent coating her words.

"Oh wonderful, I was beginning to wonder where you were." Catelyn proclaimed as she stood, rubbing her arms to keep warm as the new Lorathi handmaiden stepped into the chambers and quietly closed the door behind her.

"You appear to be cold, my lady." The handmaiden said as she knelt by the hearth to stoke the fire. Her hair was short, only going down to her collarbones in fine obsidian waves.

"Aye. But only a bit. I've found that my flesh is cold, as it as accustomed to the hot sun of Volantis. Yet my blood runs warm. Both of my parents were Northern, born and raised in the winter lands of Westeros. Their blood keeps me warm on these nights." The handmaiden paused when Cat had mentioned her parents, before slowly resuming her tasks, walking over to the tub to draw a bath.

"Your mother is Lady Sansa Stark, yes?" The handmaiden asked cautiously, filling the tub, the system of aqueducts at the Dreadfort allowing hot water to flow through the walls of the castle, ready at a moment's notice.

"My mother is a Maegyr, but only by her marriage to my stepfather. She was a Stark in maidenhood, and that Northern Stark blood still runs through her veins, as it does mine." The Lorathi handmaiden nodded, seeming pleased with Lady Catelyn's response. There was silence for a while as the black haired handmaiden readied the now full bathtub with herbs and perfumes, that silence breaking as the servant stood up straight as her preparatory work was complete.

"My lady, your bath is ready." She reported dutifully. Catelyn nodded, and began to undo the belt that held her robe in place. As the robe dropped to the floor, the lady of the Dreadfort stepped carefully into the tub with the help of her new handmaiden, the hot waters a welcome sensation on her chilled, pale skin. Cat had never felt particularly self conscious about being naked in front of others, as the culture of Volantis regarded nudity as something almost holy. In the most ancient days of Volantene religion, the goddess of fertility, Sikatepa, was worshipped as the ultimate queen of life, and she was always depicted in the nude. All of the most sacred Volantene customs were performed in the nude. During a girl's first bleeding, she would stay with a group of priestesses, never covered for the entirety of the bleeding. When a woman was wed, she and her husband would consummate their marriage in the nude. Women gave birth in the nude, they would often nurse in the nude, and when death claimed a Volantene soul, their body would be stripped of worldly clothes and fashions, naked and pure in the eyes of the gods. So Cat did not feel weak or exposed naked, but rather confident and powerful. Being naked in the home of her ancestors made her feel so completely whole, her nudity reminding her of her Volantene upbringing whilst the chills of the North made her mindful of her Northern blood.

While Cat's Lorathi handmaiden began to wash her long, orange hair, she also began to ask questions.

"How long will your mother be staying at the Dreadfort, my lady?" The Lorathi inquired as she began to rinse the perfumes and shampoos from her lady's fiery locks of hair.

"I believe that she will be staying until the end of the fortnight before returning to Volantis." Cat replied, softly scrubbing her arms with a washing cloth soaked in perfumed soaps.

"You look just like her, my lady." The handmaiden whispered, a tinge of sentimentality hidden in her words.

"You know my mother?" Catelyn asked, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"I have seen her, my lady. You bear her likeness." The Lorathi had paused before responding, as if she were unsure of her words, yet Cat paid it no mind. Handmaidens often felt intimidated by ladies of her status, so it was with familiarity that Cat accepted the servant's nerves.

"Ah." The orange haired Bolton said casually. There was a bit of silence before Cat spoke up. "I do not mean any offense by the question that I am about to ask you, and if you are uncomfortable answering, then feel free to remain silent, but the question must be asked no matter what, so I— " Catelyn was cut off by the quiet chuckling of the handmaiden.

"Do you mean to ask me if I am a maiden, my lady?" Cat felt the blood rushing to her face as her hands flew to cover her cheeks at the Lorathi's comment.

"Y-yes. I do. You see, my husband and I have yet to consummate our marriage, and I... Well... I don't know if... Or how to..." The Lorathi offered her hand to the lady of the Dreadfort as she stepped out from the tub.

"How to please him?" The handmaiden completed her lady's sentence slowly.

"Yes. I don't want to disappoint him, you see, not in our marriage bed, and especially not for the first time that we lay together." Cat had gotten quiet by the end of the sentence, her river blue eyes fixed steadily on the floor beneath her feet. The Lorathi handmaiden then gently placed her fingers beneath Cat's chin and softly lifted her face so that their eyes met.

"My lady, you needn't worry about a thing. Do you plan to consummate your marriage tonight?" The Lorathi asked as she gently used a drying cloth on Cat's hair.

"Yes." She said quickly, putting her arms through the sleeves of the jade green robe that the handmaiden was now holding up for her.

"Well, something you should know, my lady, is that you won't need to do much of the work. Most men don't like anything too fancy while they lay with a woman, they often prefer to do things their own way. However, for a marriage to work well, you will need a balance. A wife needs to have some form of control in her married life, or else she looses sight of who she really is. And many women find that control that they lack in their marriage bed." The Lorathi's words were well paced as she tied the robe's belt in place to keep the robe from slipping off on accident. She then led her lady to the vanity and continued to dry her hair with a warm, dry towell.

"So what do I do?" Catelyn asked, noticing the concealed chuckle coming from her new handmaiden. "I mean, I know how it works. I just..." Cat tried to find the right words, but she could not seem to. The Lorathi smiled gently as she began to braid her lady's hair.

"I apologize for laughing, my lady. I should not have." The handmaiden said quietly. Cat waved her hand, dismissing the barely-there insult with the gesture.

"No, no it's alright. It's just that... Well, I'm not a virgin. At least, I don't think that I am. What I'm trying to say is that... My maidenhood was taken from me against my will. I didn't want it to happen, but I just want my husband to be able to enjoy our marriage bed, even if he's sharing it with spoiled goods." Right as the Lady of the Dreadfort said _spoiled goods_ , the Lorathi handmaiden had firmly taken Cat's chin in her hand.

"Don't you ever say that again. You are the firstborn child of Sansa Stark, you are a good that couldn't be spoiled if you fucked a thousand men. And anyone who says otherwise is worth nothing more than the dirt that settles in the stones beneath your feet. You are so much more than you think, my lady, and your husband knows that very well. Do not worry about pleasing him. I've seen the way that he looks at you, my lady. There is nothing but love in those eyes when they are locked on you. He will be pleased no matter what you decide to do in your bed tonight." The orange haired Bolton had tears in her river blue eyes by the time that her handmaiden was finished speaking. All she could manage was a grateful nod of appreciation as she brought the Lorathi into an embrace, something the handmaiden had not anticipated, but reciprocated with warmth. When the two separated, the Lorathi stood and smoothed her dress.

"I fear that it is getting late, my lady, and I must go to bed. I will see you again tomorrow." The handmaiden paused before leaning in close to whisper into Catelyn's ear. "And if your husband does anything that you do not want him to do, bang on the wall four times and help will come." The Lorathi stood up straight once more before turning to leave.

"Wait!" Catelyn shouted after her handmaiden, who was standing in the doorway, just about to exit her bedchambers. "I never caught your name." The handmaiden smiled softly.

"Shae." She said before leaving and closing the door behind her.

_SIMON_

Wyman Manderly had been an old man for a considerable amount of time, yet he still clung to what little life he had left, insisting for years that he remain in charge of the Dreadfort. However, despite his insistence, his granddaughters Wylla and Wynafryd were the two who truly ran and oversaw the workings of the castle, along with the staff that came with it. The two sisters worked well together, especially considering how different they were in regards to their personalities.

After hours of working out legal matters, discussing who in the head staff would stay and who would go, and how much money the Maegyrs of Volantis owed the Manderlys of New Castle for overseeing the workings of the Dreadfort for the past nineteen years, Simon was released from the meeting.

After all of it was done, Simon was more than ready to settle into the lord's chambers with his new wife. When he opened the door to the chambers, he barely had time to look at his wife before he began to disrobe for the night.

"Cat, my love, you would not believe the amount of work that goes into this castle." He sighed as he began to remove his furs. "I mean, the financials alone are enough to drive a man over the edge, so how the Maderlys have been doing it for nineteen years is beyond me," Simon continued as he removed the leather belts and jerkin, leaving him in only his tunic and breeches. "By the seven, I swear I don't know how—"

"Look at me, Simon." The lord of the Dreadfort was cut off by his wife's sudden words. They were delivered in that astounding voice of hers, words coated in that Volantene accent with a hint of her mother's Northern voice, that drove him absolutely wild each time that he heard it. When he turned around, his heart nearly stopped beating at the sight. His wife was standing by the foot of their bed, her orange hair hanging over her shoulder in a loose Volantene braid, her porcelain skin glowing in the soft candle light.

And she was entirely naked.

"Cat," He whispered as his lady wife slowly approached him.

"Was this too much?" She asked, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

"Seven hells, of course not." He replied, grinning, before bringing his lips down against hers.

Their kiss was slow at first, very romantic, but it soon lost any and all innocence that it may have held. Their tongues slipped in and out of the other's mouths, his hands grabbing at her breasts, her arse, her waist, wanting to be ever closer to her, as she barely managed to remove his tunic. The couple soon managed to topple over onto their bed, their kisses more frenzied than ever, and as Simon held his wife steady on his lap, his mouth latched onto an erect, rosy pink nipple, Cat breathed a whimper of pleasure. As the wetness between her thighs grew, her nimble fingers worked to undo the laces of his breeches. It was then that Simon stopped her. Their river blue eyes locked on one another, the heat of the moment gone.

"Are you sure, my love? I know that in the heat of the moment, it all feels right, but I want to make sure that you're completely alright with this. I don't want to take advantage of you, and your first time, your first _real_ time, should be special, and driven by love rather than passion." Cat smiled at her husband's kind words before softly kissing his lips.

"I'm sure, _ñuha ōños._ " (my light). She whispered warmly as the fire in the hearth crackled. "Do you want to go through with this?" She asked, her tone changing ever so slightly.

"Oh by the seven, yes." He managed to croak as his wife undid the laces of his breeches and he wriggled out of the constricting fabric. Cat eyed his large member as he carefully laid her on her back.

"Please be gentle." She whispered, almost a plea, as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Of course, my love." He said, kissing her lips as he slowly moved into her. He moved according to how she moved with him, holding back his desires to go quicker when she went slower. He gently kissed her neck as she sighed little moans of pleasure. After several thrusts, he could not stop his seed from spilling inside his wife, but he felt incredibly guilty that she had not been able to finish before him.

"Hold on, my love. I'm not done with you just yet." Catelyn's brow furrowed at her husband's words, until he began kissing her neck, then her collarbones, down to her breasts and stomach, and as soon as his mouth reached her cunt, her back arched and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming in pleasure. His tongue moved in and out of her, occasionally moving to suck on her pearl. He loved the taste of her, so much so that he didn't stop when she reached her peak, bringing her to peak again, when he finally was able to break himself away from her most intimate spot.

"Did you enjoy that, my love?" He asked, grinning at her heaving chest as he began to trace patterns along her stark white breasts.

"Very much so, yes." She sighed breathlessly. Her husband smiled, pleased that he was able to make his wife feel pleasure in their marriage bed.

"I'm glad." Simon paused, almost unsure of the next words to say. "I love you, Catelyn." He whispered, his fingertips tracing the curve of her jaw. He noticed how her blue eyes began to water as she leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips.

"I love you, Simon." She murmured back to him, before the two of them fell into a deep slumber in each other's arms.

_RYLE_

He had arrived at Evenfall Hall a week before, yet nothing was particularly outstanding. As promised, he wrote to Little Lya daily, recounting all of the uneventful events that occurred in the seat of house Tarth. Sansa Lannister was beautiful, kind, and intelligent, but she could also be incredibly annoying. She would often laugh at his attempts to be romantic, howl at his mistakes, and it all made him so annoyed that he had once shouted at her to shut her mouth, which made her cry. So, around the third day, he took to keeping to himself, only leaving his chambers for meals. His attitude got him nowhere closer to his betrothed, but he didn't have it in him to care in the slightest.

One morning, while writing to Lyanna, he noticed that his ink was smudging all the words together. He took the bottle of the black liquid, headed towards the library to collect a better jar, when he walked straight into a young woman.

"Seven hells!" He yelled as the ink spilt all over his clothes.

"Oh fuck!" She cursed as she hurried to tear a piece of cloth from her dress to help him clean off the ink. Her dress was quite plain, a simple pink dress with quarter length sleeves and skirts that seemed to be better for movement than for show, and her honey colored hair was left down. "I am so, so sorry, my lord, please forgive my idiocy, I should have looked where I was going, and now you've got your ink spilt all over you all because of me! I would like to extend my sincerest of apologies, my lord, please do forgive me." She gushed as she dabbed her torn piece of dress on Ryle's blue velvet jerkin. He gently took her hand in his to stop her from fussing about the mess.

"It's truly no problem, just some ink spilt on fabric. I have other clothes in my wardrobe, you needn't worry about it, truly." He said softly. The woman looked up into Ryle's bright blue eyes and managed a smile.

"If you do insist." She then took her hand from his and backed away to curtsy. "I don't believe that we have had the pleasure of officially meeting, my lord. I am Lady Lyla of house Sarsfield." She announced, sinking low to the floor.

"I am Ser Ryle of the house Baratheon. The pleasure is all mine, my lady." He said with a small chuckle before offering his hand to help her stand. Her fuss was quite amusing, and he had not felt amused since coming to Evenfall Hall. "Now, if I remember my history of the noble houses of Westeros correctly, don't the Sarsfields of Sarsfield live in the Westerlands?" He asked with his head cocked to the side as she smoothed her skirts. She brought her gaze up from the fussing of her hands to meet Ryle's.

"Yes, we do. You see, I was fostered alongside Lady Sansa at Casterly Rock, and she decided to bring me with her here to Evenfall Hall, as I am one of her closest friends." She said, seeming to just barely resist the urge to clean up the rest of the spilt ink. Ryle nodded with a small grin.

"Well, I'm afraid that I must be on my way, I do have a bit of a situation with the ink." Ryle said with a small laugh. Lyla grinned as she stepped to the side, allowing him to pass. He waved goodbye to her before entering the library, beginning his search for a bottle of better ink.

Ryle was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps of a woman coming up behind him until he could practically sense her presence. The woman seemed to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with pale skin, red hair, and startling light blue eyes.

"May I help you?" He asked, fairly annoyed at the interruption.

"Are you Ryle Baratheon? Son of Arya Stark?" She asked slowly. Her voice was a low grumble, a sort of rumbling ancient voice. The sound of her words made Ryle's skin crawl.

"I am. And you are?" He asked, unsure if he should have told the truth or lied.

"Justice." She said. It was then that he noticed the knife in her right hand as she approached him.

He tried to defend himself, but she was too quick. She buried her knife in his left arm, and he howled in pain. He could feel his energy draining from his body, almost as if the stab wound in his arm was an opened stopper in a barrel of wine, and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop it.

And then he heard a thud.

A body collapsed to the floor. The body of the woman who had stabbed him. His attacker's head had been bashed in, and based on the ghostly stare of her pale blue eyes, she was dead. Ryle was barely able to make out the face of Lady Brienne of Tarth before darkness overtook his consciousness, sending him into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUNNNNN!!!! So Ryle got stabbed!!! What to heck!!!! And Shae?????? (I will explain everything in the next chapter). Thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a comment:) Bye bye!!
> 
> Maggy


	18. Lyla/Shae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lyla Sarsfield treats Ryle's wounds, she and Sansa Lannister painfully remember someone from their past, Shae recalls old memories, and makes a vow to Catelyn.

_LYLA_

Ryle had been asleep for two days. Lyla was an experienced healer, and the maester was far too busy with the butcher's boy's broken leg, the kitchen maid's fever, and the ward's daughter's virus to deal with the stabbing of the second Baratheon son, so they had Lyla tend to his wounds. It was the second night of unconsciousness when Ryle awoke. His bright blue eyes had fluttered open and landed on Lyla, who had slept a total of three hours while watching him for the entirety of his recovery.

"Hhhhh," He managed as Lyla hurried to hush him, bringing a flask of water to his lips.

"Shhh, shh. You're alright, Ryle. What is the last thing that you remember?" She spoke with a hushed voice, pressing her fingers to the pulse point at his neck. His pulse was normal. She stood to lean over his face, looking down at his eyes as he drank. She brought a lit match above his gaze. His pupils were dilated, but not so much so that it was worrying.

"I... There was a woman... She stabbed me... Lady Brienne found me... I..." Lyla nodded. His memory recall was fine.

"Shh, shh. Only speak when I ask you questions. How does your head feel?" She asked before blowing out the match and setting it aside. He used his right arm to sit up, wincing at the pain, his left arm bandaged in a sling.

"It hurts, but nothing that I can't handle." He groaned, squinting his eyes. She was seated at the left of his bed, and she looked him in the eye as she reached for his bandages.

"You hit your head fairly hard when you fell after being stabbed. I was worried that there may have been damage to your brain as well as to your arm." Lyla paused as she lightly grasped the end of the cloth sling. "I'm going to inspect your wound now. It's not a pretty sight." Ryle nodded at her words as she began to untie the sling.

The blood and puss on the bandages was beginning to crust over, a good sign for his wound would be fully scabbing over soon. As she undid the bandages, Ryle's bright blue gaze did not waver from her face.

"Why are you looking after me? Where is the maester?" He croaked as she inspected his wound. The wound did not appear to be infected, at first glance, yet in the hurry to stitch the wound, she had forgotten to clean it out, and she could feel a sore beginning to form beneath the skin. She would need to reopen the wound.

"The maester has other sick and injured to deal with, and I have been studying the art of surgery for the past three years. You're lucky that I'm here, or else you'd be at the mercy of a half blind old crone who got his maester's chain about fifty years ago and can't tell milk of the poppy from tears of Lys." Lyla chuckled softly to herself as she stood to get her surgery kit. When she sat back down with her materials, she brought her auburn eyes up to meet Ryle's.

"What I am going to do now will hurt." She articulated, keeping the words at a slow pace. Ryle nodded, as if to give her permission.

"I'm not scared by pain, my lady." He grunted. She pursed her lips as she handed him a small glass flask filled with a milky white substance. He narrowed his eyes at the liquid, his brow furrowed. The young knight's expression asked the question for him.

"It's milk of the poppy." Lyla answered The brown eyed lady watched as her patient contemplated his options.

"I can do without." He decided. She inhaled sharply.

"Ser, milk of the poppy will make this easier for the both of us. You needn't let your pride stop you from suffering through needless pain." She paused as she gently touched his forearm. "You can trust me." Their eyes remained locked as Ryle slowly nodded before reaching out with his right hand to take the small glass flask from her hands, quickly downing the liquid with ease. It was only a few moments before Ryle's bright blue eyes began to flutter, the second born Baratheon drifting off into a deep slumber.

Lyla worked at a good pace, not too slow, but not at all rushed. She carefully took out the stitches that held his wound together, and using a sterilized scalpel, she slowly reopened the wound. Lyla instantly spotted the sore, a glaring white sac, and worked quickly to remove it. After the sore was out, she checked around the rest of the wound for any signs of infection, applying boiled wine to any spots that looked suspicious. Feeling satisfied with her work, she reached for her needle and silk thread to stitch the wound up once more.

It had been about three days since the surgery, Ryle still asleep for the majority of the time, and Lyla still awake. She was reading a book about the history of the house Targaryen, when the door began to open slowly. Lyla traded her book for the dagger that lay on the desk beside her, and slowly approached the door. When it finally fully swung open, she went to attack until she saw who was there.

"I apologize if I've startled you. I only wanted to come and see him." Lady Sansa Lannister said, her voice quiet and meek. Lyla breathed a sigh of relief as she placed the dagger down on the bedside.

"Of course, of course. He's still asleep, but he may wake soon." She said, wiping her hands on her apron. The healer's best friend was dressed in a crimson gown with quarter length tight sleeves and loose skirts, the style popular in the stormlands. Sansa slowly approached her betrothed and sat down on the right side of the bed, a scared and cautious look on her face as she place her hand over his.

"He looks so pale." Sansa whispered, concern and fear plastered all over her face. Lyla shook her head as she took her seat on the other side of Ryle's bed.

"Trust me, Sansa, he'll be alright. He lost quite a bit of blood, but with the diet of Dornish lemons, pomegranates, sesame seeds, and copper water that I have him on, he should be back on his feet in no less than a fortnight, and he'll be back to swinging his sword in a matter of months." The brown eyed healer said before placing her dagger back down on the bedside table.

"I should hope that I can trust that you've healed him properly. We wouldn't want another incident like Bryon." Sansa said the last sentence with a small hint of accusation, a nerve that struck Lyla. The healer's auburn eyes met her best friend's sapphire, a silence saying all the things that they didn't dare speak of aloud, the tense air nearly suffocating.

"You know that I tried to save him." Lyla managed, anger and hurt flooding her strained voice.

"All I know is that you didn't save him." Sansa hissed, her anger bubbling beneath the surface of her voice. The silence came again, both ladies staring in the other's eyes, hatred, rage, and hurt making that silence deafening.

"Hhhhhnggg," The sound of Ryle Baratheon's voice broke the horrid silence, and Lyla quickly brought the flask of copper water to his lips.

"Shh, shh. Drink." Lyla uttered, her voice strained. As Ryle swallowed the metallic water, Sansa stood.

"Well, I should be going. I will come back in the morning, but it's so late that it's nearly early. Goodbye, Lyla." The sapphire eyed Lannister said before turning and exiting the room. The brown eyed healer felt tears stinging her eyes as the heavy oak door shut behind her best friend, the memory of that one who she could not save hurting her beyond reason.

"What were you talking about?" Ryle croaked as Lyla quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Nothing. Just someone from our past." She uttered while managing a small smile. There was a short and awkward pause before Ryle's blue eyes went wide, as if he were remembering something.

"Have there been any letters for me from King's Landing?" Ryle asked, his voice still a low croak. Lyla had almost forgotten about the slowly growing stack of letters that had been coming in from the Red Keep.

"Yes! There have been, let me fetch them for you." She smoothed her skirts as she stood before gliding over to a small table by the door and grabbing the stack of letters, all hand delivered by what were probably the fastest riders that the Red Keep had to offer. She brought the stack back over to Ryle and handed it to him. He struggled to open the letters with one hand, and when he tried to use his left arm, he winced in pain, cursing as his injured arm retreated back into it's position in the sling.

"Here, let me, Ser." Lyla offered as he slowly handed them over to her with his good arm.

"There's no need to call me Ser, Lyla. I do believe that we're beyond such formalities. You've seen my arm cut open, and you've been changing my chamber pot for the past five days. You're not a servant, you're a lady. Call me Ryle." He said gently. Lyla gave him a small smile as she opened the first letter with an ancient looking letter opener.

"I apologize, _Ryle_ for my overly formal addressing of you. I'm just used to using formal titles around here." She handed him the first letter as she began to open the second. She waited patiently as his bright blue eyes scanned the lines of the page, the corners of his lips being pulled every so slightly upward. She handed him the second letter when he was finished with the first, and quickly opening the third. Lyla Sarsfield watched Ryle Baratheon reading these letters with fascination, wondering who could have written what to keep him so captivated.

"Who writes you these letters?" She asked finally as he was tearing through the seventh and last letter.

"My sister, Lyanna. We promised each other to write every day." He whispered before setting the final letter down in his lap. He handed the stack of messages to Lyla and she organized them neatly before placing them on the bedside table.

"And does she write in these notes that makes them so captivating?" Lyla inquired, leaned forward with her head resting on her chin and her elbow rested on her knee. a light smile graced her lips as she asked.

"She just writes about her everyday life, and all the mundane tasks that come along with being a lady of the royal court, and a princess in training. She talks about how she hates every bit of it." Ryle paused, a sentimentality clouding his eyes as his gaze grew distant, a soft smile on his lips. "She speaks of how she finds solace in the comfort of our mother's arms." Before she could stop herself, perhaps it was her utter lack of sleep, Lyla began to ramble.

"My sister, Nona, writes me everyday as well. However, the Westerlands are quite a bit farther away from here than King's Landing, so she sends them by Raven. She's twelve years old now, and she's got our father's blue eyes. They're a soft blue, not quite like yours. A bit grey, but still definitely blue. She's always been so kind and free of spirit. I love her so incredibly much, and sometimes I hardly know how I can bear it, being away from her for so long." Lyla stopped, and found that her vision was blurring, despite her eyes being free of tears. It had been some time since she had gotten more than a half hour of sleep at a time, and she was fearing that she would faint at any given moment if she did not get to bed soon.

"Lyla? You're swaying." Ryle noticed. He then did something quite strange: He moved over and patted the space next to him on the feather bed.

"Ryle, I couldn't. You need proper surveillance for as long as possible, and I—"

"You are too tired to properly surveillance me, Lyla. Get some rest. I'll wake you if anything isn't right." Too exhausted to continue arguing, Lyla, quite ungracefully, crawled over Ryle's legs to the other side of the bed, and was almost instantaneously knocked out by her fatigue. Yet one thought managed to enter her mind before it all went dark.

She thought of her brother's eyes.

_SHAE_

Shae had been living a half life for the past twenty five years. Gods she was so _stupid_ when she was young. She had never intended to play the game of thrones, yet it played _her_ like a game of cyvasse, and she lost miserably. She would never forget how blind with rage she was, so dead set on enacting revenge on Tyrion Lannister, for what exactly, she could never say. Betraying him in court satisfied her rage, but only part way. She fucked Tywin out of spite, yet she never could imagine the emptiness that came after her rage had been released. The horrifying truth of what she had done didn't quite begin to sink in until just before Tyrion paid her a visit. She had condemned the love of her life and the girl she loved like a little sister to death. And because of her own selfish rage, Sansa had suffered a fate worse than death.

The evidence of Sansa's year long torturous imprisonment and rape at the hands of Ramsay Bolton was walking about the Dreadfort with her mother's orange hair and her father's last name. Catelyn Bolton, or Catelyn Tully now, had claimed her birthright, and was now ruling as Lady of the Dreadfort. The Bolton banners had all been changed nineteen years before. After Sansa had given birth to her daughter, the official Bolton sigil simply became a white X on a black banner, the flayed man removed, erasing a history of barbarians so that her child might not know the horrors of her ancestors.

The Lorathi had heard the tales of Ramsay Bolton's death. She herself had suffered a similar fate; death at the hands of a lover. She hated recalling the memory, yet she had dreamed of it the previous night, and it was creeping back into her mind, slowly, but surely.

_Tyrion had left her cold, dead body to rot on the bed of the hand of the king. She was there, but she wasn't. She was conscious, but not truly, not able to think nor speak any words, but she felt every emotion in its rawest and most human form. It had been hours since she had been strangled to death, yet time didn't seem to pass in the blackness of death. Suddenly, she felt something. A voice, a familiar voice with a familiar Lorathi accent, speaking in an ancient Valyrian tongue. This voice grew louder and louder, until it seemed to fill Shae's entire being up, a fire of noise erupting inside her until she was gasping, sputtering for air, clutching at her neck. Standing over her was an old friend, a woman she never thought that she would see again._

_"Kaerinio?" Shae asked, her voice still quite hoarse, her mind racing with a million questions at once. Her oldest friend, her childhood playmate, Kaerinio from Lorath, pressed a finger to her lips, and helped Shae stand._

_"Come, Shae. We haven't much time." The newly revived whore examined her friend with wonder and amazement. Kaerinio was dressed in a ceremonial crimson gown, and a beautiful ruby choker had been placed around her neck. She had always adored the religion of light and fire, and they had joked as children about becoming red priestesses._

_"You're a red priestess now?" Shae asked as her friend pulled her into a servant staircase, hurrying to the servant chambers at the bottom of the spiral stairway._

_"Yes. Now hush, we don't have time for questions now. I promise, I will answer everything later, just trust me for now." Kaerinio whispered urgently, her brown eyes on Shae's. Shae nodded and rubbed her neck once more, bruises forming on her warming skin. Kaerinio began rummaging through a chest at the foot of the servant bed, and tossed orders over her shoulder._

_"You'll have to undress, and quickly, too." Shae did as she was told, and slipped out of her handmaiden's dress with ease. "Put this on." Her friend commanded, tossing her a set of smallclothes with a corset. Shae slipped on the smallclothes with ease, but fumbled with the laces of the corset, which had come undone._

_"Will you help me?" Shae asked, her heart pounding in her chest, an eerie reminder of the fact that just minutes before, her heart had been stopped for hours._

_"Here." Kaerinio's nimble fingers laced up the bodice with impossible swiftness before she turned and grabbed a dress from the tall wardrobe. It was of a style that Sansa used to wear, with long sleeves, modest necklines, and flowing skirts. The red priestess helped her friend into the jade green dress, and quickly tied the belt in place. Kaerinio stepped back to view her work before nodding in approval and grabbing Shae by the elbow._

_"No one will recognize you in that dress if we move quick enough. Come now, we must hurry. Our boat leaves soon." The priestess uttered before leading her friend out of the servant chambers. Shae's mind was racing with a thousand different questions, yet she trusted Kaerinio, so she kept her head down and walked at a quickened pace with her through the halls until they had made their way to the harbor._

_The dark night sky was covered in a blanket of fog which rolled through the harbor as well, making it quite difficult to decipher exactly who or what was in front of you. The moon was new, barely a sliver, providing no guiding light to help the two Lorathi friends on their journey to escape, yet Kaerinio seemed to know how to navigate through the harbor as if she had a map of the place permanently imprinted on her mind. She found a bearded man and dolled out a handful of coins to him before gesturing for Shae to follow her aboard the ship._

_The two friends settled into their small cabin, a small bed for the two of them to share. They hadn't been able to bring many belongings from the Red Keep, but it appeared that Kaerinio had stocked up on supplies and clothes beforehand. The red priestess sat down on the bed next to Shae and turned to her._

_"Do you have any questions?" She asked her gently, placing a hand on her friend's knee._

_Shae's mind was racing with millions of questions, yet none of them seemed to materialize well enough to be asked properly. All she could think about was Tyrion, her Lion. The look of betrayal on his face. That sickening satisfaction when he spat vile words at her lies. The golden chains wrapped around her neck. The darkness. The silence. Being brought back. It was all so much that only one question was simple enough to come to mind._

_"Where is this ship headed?" Shae asked, her voice breaking slowly as silent tears began to stream down her face._

_"White Harbor. You'll start working as a handmaid at the seat of house Bolton, the Dreadfort, yet you will wait on no one in particular. Not for some time, at least. You will scrub the floors, make the beds, dust the cobwebs, and in exchange, you will be given safety, discretion, and fair pay." Shae nodded at Kaerinio's words before a sob escaped her lips. Her friend held her, concern deep set in her brown eyes. "Shae, what is the matter?" She demanded._

_"W-What will happened t-to Sansa? I've ruined the poor girl! I'm a spiteful bitch, and I've ruined what little happiness and safety that she had left!" Shae managed through her sobs. Kaerinio held her close, stroking her friend's hair._

_"Sansa is safe for now. She will suffer for some time, yet she will be granted thousands of blessings as reward for her strength through the hardships. You needn't worry about her now, my dear Shae. She will survive." Kaerinio's words had a truth deep rooted in them, Shae could sense it, yet they were little consolation. That night, they slept next to each other, as they did as young girls in Lorath, cradling in each other's arms until the morning came to wake them._

Shae shook the memory of over twenty years prior as she curled her toes over the cold stone floor before standing up to stretch. The morning sun of the North held plenty of light with little warmth, yet it was a young sun, casting saturated rays of pink, orange, and lilac across the waking sky. She took her time dressing herself, as Lady Catelyn wouldn't be up for a bit. She looked quite like Sansa had, yet Cat's jaw was wider set. It was the only physical feature that she had of her father, and Shae prayed that her lady wouldn't get too curious about her sire. There was an unspoken understanding in the Dreadfort to never speak of Ramsay Bolton. Shae had encountered him on several occasions before he had moved into Winterfell and died. Several of her handmaid friends who had kept his company disappeared whenever his hounds howled a little too loudly, or if ever the bastard grew tired of hunting animals for sport, yet Shae was smart. She knew not to be too timid and weak, for that would mean that Ramsay would want to hear you scream, yet she knew that being defiant meant that she would be a fun challenge to torture and kill. She remained neutral in her years at the Dreadfort, and she maintained that unnoticeable air quite well. That was, until she had met Cat. Sansa's daughter was so much of her mother that Shae seemed to revert back into that fierce, willful, and protective state that she lived in when she served the Red Wolf.

The Lorathi handmaiden pulled back her hair into the simplistic Lorathi style of two braided strands from the front braided together in the back before slipping on her stockings and shoes. As she looked at herself in the dirty mirror, she found herself wishing for her Lion. Ever since her resurrection, she had lived each day in the hopes of seeing her former lover and killer, Tyrion Lannister. It was known that he served as hand of the Queen and King to their graces Daenerys and Jon Targaryen, and had for many years. Shae often dreamt of him, sipping wine in a vineyard in the Reach, free of worries and responsibilities. She once dreamt that she was there at his vineyard, but she pushed those thoughts of dreams away as she passed by Lord Simon Tully in the hallway, keeping her obsidian eyes to the ground.

The door to his and Cat's room was left ajar, and she slipped in, seeing her lady's orange hair fanned out around her pillow as she lay on her side, her nakedness beneath the silken sheets evidence of the previous night's activities. Shae stood in the doorway, gazing upon Catelyn as if she were a lamb. She was so soft, gentle, and innocent, so impressionable and young.At that moment, Shae was overcome with an urge to wrap her arms around her, to protect her from danger and harm. She slowly approached the bed, careful to remain quiet as she kneeled before her sleeping lady.

"I may have failed your mother, but I will not fail you. I vow to protect you from the evil that lurks in the darkest of corners, I will shield you from those who might wish you harm. You are mine to protect, and I am yours to rule. I am the dagger sheathed against your thigh, I am your poison hidden in your sleeve, and I am the lowly guardian to protect you from the danger of which you were never taught to fear. I vow this to you, Catelyn Tully of the house Bolton, daughter of Sansa Maegyr of the house Stark, and I pray that should I ever break this vow, that you give me a terrible and merciless death." Shae whispered the words with reverence and promise before lightly kissing the tiger shaped ring on Cat's left hand. The orange haired Bolton seemed to stir slightly, yet she did not wake.

Shae stood, smiling a soft smile, before gliding towards the wardrobe to prepare Cat's clothing for that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, I'm actually fairly pleased with my new chapter for once hahaha. My life has been going really well right now after a period of it being quite shitty, but since I've been feeling a lot better, I've been working on this chapter! I really hop you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a comment! Bye bye!
> 
> Maggy


	19. Talisa/Lyanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Talisa plays chess with Roslin Tully, and Lya gets married.

_TALISA_

Life in Riverrun would be pleasant for most young women. It was a beautiful castle, complete with a lovely godswood, a well lit sept, and flourishing gardens. There were a plethora of kind and efficient servants at Talisa's beck and call, and hundreds of mesmerizing gowns in the styles of the Riverlands. The Volantene Lady should have been happy.

But she wasn't.

Hoster was kind, but he lacked the ability to give his wife a sense of passion. Talisa had seen him fighting in the tourney, she had heard his loud and firm voice when arguing with various lords, and she had read his public essays and letters, his wit and passion evident in every aspect of his life. Yet she had never felt it. They lay together almost every night of every week, yet their sex lacked passion. It was alright, yet she always could sense her husband holding back, never giving her all of him in their marriage bed. He always wore a tunic when they laid together, yet she would be completely bare and naked. His clothing seemed to be symbolic of the wall between them, and it angered and frustrated Talisa, feeling as if her Volantene gods might be mocking her pain by not allowing her the holy right to lay with a naked husband.

It had been three moons since she had come to Riverrun, and she felt as if the light of life had been drained from her. In recent weeks, she had felt especially fatigued, her head pounding, and her muscles failing to carry her long distances, as they had always done in the past. She felt weak away from her family and her home. She longed to see her dear sisters and brothers, to run her hands through Cat's orange hair, to feel the soil of Lyna's garden slipping between her fingers, to splash water at the twins, to curl up among satin pillows with Verrum and Miryla, and to listen to Ned butchering an attempt to play ancient songs on the harp. She longed for the raunch gossip that her Aunt Calysta would provide from Myr, to feel her father's warm and loving arms wrapped around her, and to hear her mother singing soft Northern lullabies when she thought that her daughter was asleep. She felt lost without her family despite the fact that the Tullys were making every attempt to create a new family for her. 

Talisa's goodmother, Lady Roslin Tully, had taken particular interest in her, and had invited her for tea in her solar that afternoon, as she did every day. The only difference between that day and all the others was that Talisa had accepted for once.

The two women were seated by a large window, Roslin teaching Talisa a game called chess. They played slowly, drank sweet Dornish tea, and ate small lemon cakes. Talisa had never particularly cared for them much, but she found herself craving their tart taste on her tongue, perhaps because they reminded her of her mother.

"This reminds me of cyvasse." The Volantene said as she moved a pawn. Roslin smiled.

"Yes, the two games do have similar origins." She replied as she moved a knight. The younger grabbed another lemon cake from the tray next to them, and Roslin looked at her good-daughter with a knowing grin as Talisa ate. "Darling, that is your sixth lemon cake in the past half hour." She noted, and Talisa chewed softer, slowly setting down the lemon cake in shame.

"I apologize, I don't know what's come over me." The Volantene apologized as she moved another pawn. Roslin didn't seem the least bit disturbed, however. She actually appeared to be quite the opposite. The Lady of Riverrun was beaming at her good-daughter.

"Talisa, my darling, there is no need for apologies. You have a certain glow about your skin, you can't stop eating lemon cakes, and your handmaidens tell me that you have not bled over the past two moons." Roslin's words all seemed like pieces of a puzzle that clicked into place when she picked up what her good-mother was implying. Talisa's right hand floated just over her abdomen, shaking slightly, caught somewhere between knowing the truth of Roslin's suggestion, and not believing that such a thing could happen in such a short amount of time.

"I- I never thought that... that..." Overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions and a lacking of the right words, Talisa began to cry. Roslin's face fell as she hurried to embrace her good-daughter.

"My darling, I apologize, I did not imagine that this might make you upset." Lady Tully murmured as she stroked Talisa's long, raven black hair.

"I-It's not y-you're fault, I just..." As tears continued to pour down her face, the realization of the origin of her upset hit her like a bolt of lightning. "I always thought my mother would be there to guide me through this." The Volantene lady whispered. Roslin made shushing sounds as she stroked her good-daughter's hair.

"Oh dearest Talisa, I remember when I was pregnant with Hoster. I was living in this very castle, married to Edmure, but he was being held prisoner by my own family. I had wished for the warm comfort of my mother's guiding hand, but she had died in childbirth with my only full sibling, my brother, Jon, who died in infancy. I know what you are going through, and I swear to you by the seven gods, that I will guide you through this. While I live, you will never face the storm alone." Roslin's words were grave and solemn, holding a sacred promise within them. Talisa felt comfort in her good-mother's words, yet she could not find the right words to say back, so she simply nodded into Lady Tully's chest, allowing her husband's mother to cradle and caress her the same way that her own mother had done when she was a child.

_LYANNA_

Lyanna Baratheon's fifteenth nameday had come and gone, which meant two things: She would be marrying Prince Rhaegar II Targaryen, and her mother would be leaving for Storm's End as soon as the wedding was over. Lya had never felt so helpless as the hour of her marriage came fast approaching, each second bringing her closer than the last to the Sept of Dragons, which had been built up after the mad queen Cersei Lannister had the Great Sept of Baelor burned to the ground.

The morning of her wedding day, Lya felt a raging fear trapped inside a glass bottle of numbness as her companion, Lady Madalyn Sunglass, entered her chambers in the maiden vault.

"My lady?" She called out with a gentle tone of voice, careful not to upset the soon to be princess.

Lyanna had been unable to sleep the previous night, and was standing by the balcony, looking out to the water. In response to Madalyn's timid greeting, the youngest Baratheon turned to face her.

"You have a guest, my lady." Madalyn liked to call anyone who came to Lyanna's room a guest. Whether it was the prince, the queen, her own mother, or a complete stranger coming to pay respects to the bride to be, they were all guests to Madalyn.

"I'd prefer not to see anyone at the moment. I'm about to give my name, body, and life over to the crown, so it would be kind of you to send this unwelcome guest away so I might grieve for my childhood in peace." Lya hissed at her friend, and instantly felt regret as Madalyn's brown eyes fell to the ground. She was a good person, and had been the only true friend to Lyanna among all the ladies of the Red Keep.

"This is a guest that you'll want to see, my lady." Madalyn murmured softly as the heavy wooden door swung all the way open. Lya's grey eyes widened as she saw who was on the other side of that door, before her jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Father!" Lyanna's face erupted into a giddy smile as her lord father opened his arms to her while she ran towards him, the two colliding in a great embrace.

"Oh how I've missed you, Little Lya." Gendry Baratheon whispered as he held his only daughter close to his chest, feeling truly content for the first time since he had watched all four of his children leave to be married.

"What are you doing here?" Lya asked after pulling away from her father's arms.

"It's your wedding day, Lya. I'd quite like to walk my only daughter to the altar." As Gendry's smile grew, Lyanna's faded. The soon to be princess dropped her father's hands, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned towards the balcony. "Lya? What's wrong?" Lord Baratheon asked cautiously.

"It's my wedding day. I'm fifteen years old, and I'm being married. Before long, I'll be expected to start popping out little princes and princesses every year until one of them takes my life on the birthing bed. My life's purpose is to continue the lineage of house Targaryen and to die a noble death. I am going to give up the name that I've owned proudly for my entire life to become the new dragon princess. Do you think I'm happy with this, Father?" As Lyanna's voice began to break, tears began to spill onto her face. The soon to be princess could see the despair on her father's face as he took his only daughter into his arms, her small and thin body shaking with sobs. The two Baratheons stood there in each other's arms, each wishing the approaching wedding would not come to pass, yet both knew how moot and harmful their attempts to stop it might be.

After Lyanna and her lord father separated, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Lyanna croaked as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Madalyn Sunglass entered the room with her closest friend, a lady of the court, Lady Tylla Velaryon, a cold and demanding woman of golden hair, piercing eyes, and a fierce loyalty to her duty. She was the highest of status among the ladies in waiting, and she had always commanded respect. She was cold, private, and was never one to gossip or laugh. Yet for reasons unknown, she would unwind around Madalyn. She had reportedly opened up to her, and the two were quite inseparable.

“Lord Baratheon, if you would please leave us to help Lady Lyanna prepare for the ceremony.” Madalyn spoke the words as if it were a question, yet it was very much a demand. The lord of the Stormlands looked to his daughter and gave her one last fleeting hug before exiting the chambers.

The two ladies of the court were quiet and respectful while they bathed the bride to be, dried her off, and helped her into her small clothes. All the while her ladies in waiting dressed her, Lyanna couldn’t stop thinking about her brothers. She hadn’t yet heard from Jon in Lannisport, and in the past few weeks, Ryle has stopped sending letters from Evenfall Hall. Tallond still wrote her consistently about life in Greywater Watch, and reading those letters overflowing with cynical humor and love gave her the slightest sense of home in the ever foreign Red Keep.

As Tylla silently brushed out Lya’s long locks of dark silken hair and Madalyn finished helping Lya into her wedding gown, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Madalyn, open the door.” Lyanna whispered, her throat dry and pained from the tears still threatening to spill out from her silver eyes. Madalyn obliged quickly, and when the door to the maidenvault chambers opened, there stood the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen.

“Lady Tylla, Lady Madalyn, thank you for your assistance in helping Lady Lyanna prepare for the wedding. You are now dismissed.” The Queen said softly, a light smile dancing on her lips. The two ladies in waiting bowed their heads before slipping out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible.

The silver haired queen walked towards Lyanna, a warm smile on her lips as she approached. She wore a simple sleeveless blue gown with black and crimson detailing that hugged her waist, emphasizing the swell of her belly. Daenerys placed a hand on Lya’s cheek, and the youngest Baratheon forced a fleeting smile before her queen began to speak.

“You look absolutely beautiful in your wedding dress. Crimson suits you.” The queen said as she moved her hand from Lya’s face to feel the material of the dress. There was a heavy silence as the queen walked past Lya and sat down on a chair by the balcony.

“I know how nervous you must be feeling. How afraid. I felt the same way before my first wedding.” The grey eyed Baratheon furrowed her brow at the silver queen’s comment.

“I beg pardon, what do you mean by your _first_ wedding?” Lyanna asked, intrigued and confused. Daenerys turned to smile at Lya before responding.

“I’ve been married three times. My third wedding, I was married to King Jon, and gods willing, that union should stay in place until the end of my days. My second wedding, I was wed to Hizdahr zo Loraq, a Meereenese nobleman. It was a strictly political marriage that ended when he was killed in a riot. And my first marriage was to Khal Drogo, one of the finest Dothraki in existence. When I first married Drogo, I was terrified and miserable. I didn’t speak any Dothraki, I got sores from riding all day, and it was painful to lie with him at night. I felt hopeless, and I often considered giving up and taking my life. But after some time, Drogo and I began to fall in love. I became fluent in Dothraki quickly, and before long, I became pregnant with our son, Rhaego.” The queen grew quiet as Lyanna listened intently, grateful for the distraction that Daenerys’s story provided. “In the end, I lost both my son and Drogo. But I gained three dragons, and eventually, the iron throne as well. I have a wonderful husband to rule alongside, a marvelous son to mentor, and after today’s ceremony, I will sleep well knowing that my dear son will have a magnificent wife and Westeros will have a just queen when I am gone. You needn’t be afraid, Lyanna. Everything will turn out in your favor eventually. It just takes time, this I swear to you.” The silver queen leaned forward and kissed Lya’s forehead ever so lightly. The gesture was so small, yet to the young bride, it brought on an overpoweringly welcome feeling of comfort and understanding, something that the grey eyed Baratheon had not felt since she had learned of her betrothal.

Not long after the queen left, Lya was collected by two men of the kingsguard and taken down to a wheelhouse decorated with golden dragons. She found herself to be oddly calm as she approached the Great Sept of Dragons, something that she had not been experiencing in recent times. She thought of home, her roomy chamber of cobblestone in Storm’s End, her large window overlooking the sea below. The majority of her life, when she sat on the windowsill with her needlework or a book, the sky would be dark with storm clouds, occasionally lit up by bolts of lightning, brilliant ribbons of pure electric heat darting through the sky, announcing their arrival at any particular moment with a loud clap of thunder. Her father often told her that each storm was a war, the waves thousands of men charging at the impenetrable rocky cliffs, the howling wind their horrific battlecries of defiance and bloodlust, each pelt of rain their arsenal of arrows fired at the enemy. They were violent events, yet Lyanna would watch each storm with wonder and awe from her chamber window, always curious about experiencing the storm.

Yet in the midst of every storm, there was a moment of calm. The clouds would part to reveal a bright sky as blue as her brother’s eyes. The angered soldiers in the form of waves would retreat to a soft rhythm of lapping at the shore, the wind calming to a light and welcome breeze on a heated summer day. All of nature was silent.

Lya could not shake the feeling of that sudden calm as she exited the wheelhouse at the entrance to the sept, taking her father’s arm as the large doors opened wide.

As her father walked her down the aisle to the altar where Prince Rhaegar and the High Septon waited, she recalled a memory of when she was three and ten, watching three young merchant’s children from the Reach playing in the fields during one of these calms. She had watched them singing and dancing in the perfectly clear day, yet she could not shake the sense of impending doom, the desire to scream at the children to run and take shelter, for they were not safe.

Lya couldn’t shake that same feeling as Prince Rhaegar took her hand from her father’s with a gracious smile.

She wanted to scream at the stupid children to take cover as the winds began to strengthen, the sky beginning to darken, signaling the impending storm that would ravish them.

The prince and Lya spoke their vows in perfect unison.

The children stopped dancing.

Their lips met, sealing the vows.

The storm had come with full force out of the clear blue sky. The children were dead within the minute.

Lyanna’s storm had come at last to claim the life of her youth as the crowd cheered for their new princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So first off, I know that it’s been WAY too long since I’ve updated, and I owe you all an apology. I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long, I just got caught up in so much stuff I barely had any time or inspiration to write. So here’s the new chapter! Thanks so much for reading, and thank you especially if you left kudos or a nice comment!
> 
> Maggy


	20. Hoster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hoster has a revelation, and Talisa reveals the news of her pregnancy to her husband.

_HOSTER_

Hoster Tully was a busy man. The land tax payments from the men of house Piper of Pinkmaiden had not yet come in, half the smallfolk of Riverrun had come down with goat fever and were staying home from work to recover, and on top of it all, his brother, Simon, and his wife, Lady Catelyn, were to arrive within two hours. Officially, the newlywed pair was visiting from the Dreadfort to discuss business matters of transporting Essosi goods that arrived at the White Harbor to Riverrun, yet both Hoster and Simon knew the real reason that their wives had planned this visit was due to the fact that they had never been separated for as long as they had been in their lives. The two eldest daughters of Sansa Stark had always been the closest of sisters, and being so far away from everything that they knew was difficult for them. The eldest Tully brothers had no objections to catering to the desires and needs of their wives, so the visit was scheduled.

Hoster was late for a meeting with Lady Ryann of house Bracken to negotiate the terms of how many men she and her house would need to fend off the local bands of thieves. He was hurrying to his solar, looking over the tax records when he heard the soft, melodic song of a harp coming from a nearby corridor. The first born Tully stopped in his tracks, the music so warm and inviting that he found himself following the sound. When he came to the source of the music, Hoster was shocked to find his wife delicately plucking the strings of the golden harp. Talisa’s river blue eyes were fixed on the strings over which her fingers danced, not noticing her husband as he stood in the doorway, enchanted by the sight of her long, flowing black hair hanging loose over her shoulder as she played. Her expression showed the level of concentration in which she had invested in the instrument, yet she was so peaceful and calm in that same moment. Hoster could see that she knew the harp as if it were an extension of her body, using the strings as if they were her own voice with which to sing.

In that moment, mesmerized by the scene before him, Hoster saw a young girl with blue eyes and black hair plucking at the strings of the harp with such concentration and devotion that beads of sweat began to form on her brow, Talisa standing behind her guiding her as the child imitated his wife’s music. The firstborn Tully stood there, watching an imaginary child strum at an imaginary harp for what could have been minutes or days, only torn from his vision as his wife finished her song in an elegantly executed fade.

“I didn’t know you played the harp.” Hoster breathed. Talisa jumped, startled as she spotted her husband.

“I didn’t realize that I had an audience.” She murmured, standing and smoothing her skirts, moving to leave, her eyes glued to the floor as if in embarrassment.

“I apologize if I’ve interrupted, I didn’t mean to invade on your time alone. I only wanted to hear you play.” Hoster apologized, grabbing his wife’s hand as she passed him.

“It’s alright, I was finished anyway.” Talisa mumbled with an awkwardly forced smile, slipping her hand out from his own before hurrying out of the music room.

Hoster felt a sharp and stinging pain in his chest as he watched his wife run down the corridor with her skirts bunched in her hands, her long, ebony hair flowing behind her. He had managed to deny and ignore his feelings for some time, yet today, watching her play the harp, that shield of denial had been crudely cast aside, forcing him to stare into his heart with a harsh honesty.

Ever since he had laid eyes on Talisa Maegyr, he knew that he would never be the same. Her lovely smile, her deep rooted loyalty to her family, her laugh that floated above others around her like the song of the harp which she played so well, and her willful yet ladylike manner drew him in the instant they met. Hoster hardly ever had trouble expressing emotions to people he did not care for. Lesser lordlings and knights that tried to fool him into granting more money to their province were pests that he could crush like a bug if need be. But with those instances, he did not care for their opinions of him. He cared so much of Talisa’s opinion that it caused him to be overly cautious, which hurt more than it helped in their marriage.

Hoster thought of his wife and her harp through the meeting with Lady Ryann Bracken. Once they had settled on an agreement, Hoster made his way to the grand hall where his family and household council were standing in a line. He took his place with his mother to his left and Talisa to his right. His father stood on his mother’s left, and to Talisa’s right, Evelyn, Isaac, their maester, and Evelyn’s septa stood waiting patiently. Rhea had just been sent back to the Eyrie earlier that week. Servants lined the walk way, all of Riverrun waiting for the arrival of Simon and Catelyn Tully.

Finally, the doors opened and in walked Lord Simon Tully and his Lady wife, Catelyn. They were walking arm in arm, smiling politely until the orange haired Bolton spotted her sister. Her face broke into an ecstatic grin as the Volantene sisters ran into each other’s arms, ignoring the usual formalities. Hoster smiled, despite himself as he approached his brother.

“Welcome home, Simon. It’s good to see you.” Hoster whispered as he embraced his younger brother. The two pulled apart before he turned to greet Catelyn with a light embrace and a chaste kiss on the cheek as Talisa greeted Simon in the same manner. The siblings were interrupted by an intentionally loud cough from the traditional and strict Septa Durete, causing the visiting couple to remember their manners. Simon and Catelyn approached Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin Tully, each approaching two very different ways; Simon with excitement and Cat with modesty and uneasiness. She hadn’t yet been to Riverrun, and had met her good parents on only two or three brief occasions.

Hoster watched his mother embrace her second born son with warmth and a sense of relief. He knew that she felt fear every time she sent her children away from her, fear that they might be sent back to her beneath a funeral shroud. She was, after all, a Frey by blood, making her children potential targets of revenge, despite the fact that she had not knowingly played a part in her family’s evil doings. But vengeance knew little logic, only bloodlust.

As Lady Tully pulled away from her son, she beamed warmly at Catelyn, taking her hands in her own. She made small talk, muttering praises of Cat’s beauty and poise as she critically studied her every move. Roslin Tully was a kind woman, yet she was also a wary woman. She loved her children fiercely, and if given the slightest hint that her child might have been matched to someone who wished them harm, she would make sure that they suffered every bit as much harm as they had inflicted upon her children.

Satisfied with the results of her initial evaluation, Roslin pulled her new good daughter into a warm and motherly embrace. Edmure bowed as she curtsied, smiling at his new good daughter with a twinkle of wistful sadness in his river blue eyes.

“Lady Catelyn, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” Edmure said softly, a twinkle of pain and grief in his river blue eyes. In that moment, Hoster realized that Cat must remind his father of his late aunt and her namesake, Lady Catelyn Stark.

Hoster often wondered how his father had dealt with his pain. He had never truly known his mother, Lady Minisa, and his father had died slowly and painfully amidst the quick and violent deaths of war. Edmure has been forced to stay by his father’s side as he withered away into nothing, unable to properly mourn as Riverrun needed a lord. Then when he married, his closest sister, his nephew, and his nephew’s wife were all taken away, slaughtered on the night that should have been one of the greatest of his life. The only remaining member of his immediate family, his sister, Lysa Arryn, killed shortly after Edmure had been informed of her wellbeing in the Eyrie by a guard who happened to be a Tully loyalist. His only solace during those years before Lady Arya Stark freed him, restoring him to power, was the bit of sky that he could see from his cell window. He often told his children that as long as he could see the sky, he had faith that the gods would reward him for his suffering. And reward him they did. With six children, a castle, a beautiful wife, and an ensured continued bloodline, Edmure Tully was a perfectly content man. Yet despite all that he had been given, so much had also been taken. Hoster couldn’t imagine how his father carried on with a smiling face day after day. Hoster was pulled from his thoughts as Isaac and Evelyn began fighting, Issac having pulled the elder’s hair.

“Simon, Cat, my darlings, miss Jeyne Rivers here will show you to your chambers.” Roslin said over her shoulder as she dealt with her children, gesturing to a servant girl.

“Actually, Mother, Cat and I were hoping to head into town so I might show her the market. Talisa and Hoster, you are welcome to join us if you wish.” Simon offered, extending a warm smile.

“Oh yes! May we go, Hoster?” Talisa looked to her husband, her hands wrapping around the crook of his arm, her river blue eyes full of joy at the prospect of spending time with her sister. Yet there was something else in those eyes. A sort of wistful desire, an almost far fetched longing. It hit Hoster like a bolt of lightning, an unwelcome epiphany washing over him as he nodded at his wife. He had been looking at Talisa with a longing and loving desire since the day they had met. It was this look that Lady Catelyn shared his his brother, it was this look that Talisa had directed towards Simon.

“Of course, my love. If you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to. I hope you enjoy the market.” Hoster remained stoic and stone faced as he walked away from the welcome party, the only mark of his despair being a single tear rolling rolling down his cheek.

He never truly knew where to go during crisis, yet in that moment, he felt the hands of the gods directing him to the godswood. There he fell to his knees before the mighty oak heart tree, weeping his tears of pain. He never planned on loving Talisa, yet there was no denying that she held his heart in her hands. He sat there amongst the elms and redwoods and flowers for hours. Eventually his tears turned into hard resolve to soldier on. It was nearing dusk when he heard footsteps coming from behind him.

“Hoster? Is that you?” A heavily accented woman’s voice called out. The firstborn Tully stood, turning around to see his wife standing before him. She was dressed in a sleeveless light blue gown that flowed behind her as she stepped towards her husband.

“Hoster, there’s something that I want to tell you. Something that I _must_ tell you.” As Talisa took a deep breath, her river blue eyes fluttering closed, Hoster felt his heart wrench. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, the mere image of her living a happy life away from him shook him to the core. “I’m pregnant.” The firstborn Tully was torn from his thoughts as he stared at his wife. _I’m pregnant._ The words echoed in his mind, not truly taking root until a moment later as an ecstatic grin slowly crept across his lips.

“You mean— You’re sure?” He asked, running his hands through his sand colored locks of hair. She nodded her head with a small smile on her lips.

“I checked with the master this morning.” She said, her gaze still locked on her husband.

At that moment, Hoster let out a hearty laugh of pure ecstasy as he stepped towards his wife, wrapping her small frame into his arms, lifting her in a spinning embrace before placing her back on her feet. With one hand on her waist and the other cupping her face, he looked into her eyes, the last bit of uncertainty still clinging to his mind.

“You’re going to have a baby.” He whispered, searching her river blue eyes.

“ _We_ are going to have a baby. You’ll be a father.” At those words, Hoster smiled almost gratefully as he kissed her gently. And for the first time, she truly was glad to kiss him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this is just one POV, I just wanted to get this up as soon as possible. I’ve been suuuuper busy recently, and I won’t have much time to write for the next month or so, as I am currently a lead in my school’s production of JB by Archibald MacLeish. So I just wanted to put this chapter up:) I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading and thank you especially if you left kudos or a nice comment:)
> 
> Maggy


	21. Ryle/Athena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryle receives news of his sister’s marriage and Athena Tully completes the first of many marriage ceremonies to Eddard Maegyr.

_RYLE_

It had been two weeks since Ryle’s surgery, and it was also the first day that Lyla was not confining him to his sickbed. He had been able to dress himself, albeit quite painfully, and that was an improvement in and of itself. The fortnight that he had spent locked away in his sick room would have bee hellish under normal circumstances, yet the company of Lyla Sarsfield kept him entertained. Despite the much appreciated care and company of the Westerland healer, Ryle had long craved the outdoors, so he didn’t spend a moment longer than necessary inside the walls of Evenfall Hall. He was sitting in the gardens, the warm summer sun shining down on his face, when she approached him. 

“Hello Ryle!” Lyla Sarsfield beamed at her patient as the wind blew her light brown hair around her smiling face. She smoothed her aprons and skirts as she sat down in the green grass next to him. She breathed in heavily through her nose. “It’s a pleasant day, isn’t it?” She remarked, yet there was a slight strain in her voice. After her being his only consistent company for weeks, Ryle had learned how to listen for the truth that her words did not utter when she spoke.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, not bothering with the formalities and pleasantries of false small talk. Lyla breathed in sharply through her nose as she reached into one of her apron’s pockets, pulling out a raven scroll with a broken seal. She handled the letter delicately, as if she were holding a wounded bird. She pursed her lips before turning to him, uncertainty and anxiousness painting her face.

“A raven came for you earlier today...” She paused, as if she were nervous to say the words that followed. “From King’s Landing.” With those words she carefully extended the scroll to him, which Ryle took gingerly, afraid of the words he knew the letter would read. He stared at the broken seal, the three headed dragon seeming to stare at him as if it was mocking his pain.

“I can’t.” He uttered after a moment of consideration, handing her the scroll once more. Lyla nodded before unraveling it. She gave one last careful look at the second born Baratheon before she read the letter aloud.

“ _It is with great honor and joy that his grace King Jon of the house Targaryen and her grace Queen Daenerys of the house Targaryen announce the marriage of their son, the Crown Prince Rhaegar II to Lady Lyanna of the house Baratheon._ ” Lyla looked at Ryle, pity in her brown eyes as they sat in silence for a moment.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, and she reached to gently touch his back, unsure of how the man might react. Then Ryle did something he never imagined he would do in front of anyone but his siblings:

He began to weep.

Tears flowed from his sky blue eyes, his body shaking with anger, despair, and defeat. The thought of his baby sister walking down the aisle towards a dismal and dangerous future of bearing dragonspawn until one of them killed her on the birthing bed hurt him more than anything he had ever known.

“I’ve lost her, Lyla. She was my only sister, my best friend, and I’ve lost her.” Lyla held the weeping knight close to her before she slowly shook her head and pulled away from him.

“Ryle, you’ve not known the agony of losing a sibling. She is alive, with fresh blood in her veins and breath in her lungs. She is alright. The king grew up with your mother, he’ll look at your sister with the same love that he looks at Lady Baratheon. You’ve not lost a sister, nor a brother, so you mustn’t lose hope. You must never lose hope.” Lyla choked on her words as she finished her speech, a few stray tears streaming down her own cheeks. Ryle nodded his head slowly before he opened his arms to the healer, the two of them silently crying for those that they had loved and lost.

_ATHENA_

Volantis was hot.

Athena Tully was used to the warm summer weathers of the Riverlands, but this was a different kind of heat. It was more intense, the air more thick and wet, and the dresses were much less modest than the styles that she was used to.

The journey on the ship over to Volantis was long and lonesome. Athena spent most of her days alone in her cabin, painting pictures of Riverrun, so as to not forget the way that it looked. She often drew pictures of her brothers and sisters with pencils in her sketching book. She drew Hoster the most. They had grown up together in Riverrun, they understood each other in a way that their other siblings did not. Simon had been fostered in Dorne, and Rhea in the Vale, so there was little room for them to grow close. And Evelyn and Isaac were too young to truly be close to their eldest siblings.

Lady Celyna would sometimes try to keep Athena’s company, but it was of little comfort. The fourth born Maegyr was bright and lively, always speaking of the beauty of Volantis, yet she did not understand that Athena was not upset because she was going to Volantis, but rather because she was leaving the Riverlands.

When they finally arrived at the foreign land, Athena was instantly struck by the amount of elephants. Athena had been warned by Lady Sansa Maegyr that she wouldn’t be riding in wheelhouses or on horseback in Volantis, yet nothing could have prepared the thirdborn Tully for the shock of seeing such a great and peculiar animal, let alone the experience of riding one. She rode an elephant with Ned Maegyr, clutching onto the reigns of rope with all she had as Ned held her waist and told her what to do.

When they arrived at Castle Maegyr, Athena was whisked away by a pair of handmaidens who didn’t speak a word of the common tongue. Athena had been able to recite some Valyrian poetry in her childhood, yet she was nowhere near fluent enough to understand a word that her handmaidens were saying as they stripped her of her modest dress of the Riverlands and dunked her into a steaming hot bath. They handled her roughly, one handmaiden massaging shampooing oils and creams into her scalp, the other scrubbing her arms and legs with a rough washcloth before they rinsed her with extremely hot water poured onto her from a golden jug. They then dried her roughly with towels before squeezing her into a blue gown with gold detailing that covered very little of her chest, and none of her arms. Athena felt bare and naked, yet the light and breezy material of the dress was much more comfortable in the thick Volantene heat.

Her long auburn hair was tugged and pulled and violently combed into a single braid that fell down her back, various ribbons and flowers braided in. After Athena’s handmaidens has finished with her hair, they sprayed her with heavily scented perfumes and forced a bitter tasting liquid down her throat. The brown eyed Tully girl was near tears. She didn’t understand anything that was happening, she was in a foreign land, and she missed her mother dearly. The handmaidens continued to tug at her hair and put strange oils everywhere on her body, until finally Lady Sansa Maegyr stepped into the room. The two handmaidens stopped instantly and curtsied, their eyes to the floor.

“ _Ñuha riña._ ” (My lady) They murmured in unison. Lady Maegyr looked her soon to be good-daughter up and down and then turned back to the Volantene women, her brows furrowed as if in frustration.

“ _Ondoso se Jaes, emagon ao ivestragī bisa mijegindita riña paghagon? Iksā henujagon._ ” (By the gods, have you let this poor girl breathe? You are dismissed.) The lady of the house waved her hand and the Volantene women hurried out of the room. Lady Maegyr then smiled sweetly at Athena and sat on a cushioned stool beside her.

“I apologize for all of the fuss. Please do forgive Lora and Dax, the girls were only doing what they were told.” Sansa spoke the words gently and softly, her westerosi accent speaking the common tongue a welcome song to Athena’s ears.

“Who told them to do that?” The Tully asked, her voice accusing and quiet. Lady Maegyr gave a sympathetic smile as she stood.

“I did. Of course, I did not tell them to go about the preparations so harshly, yet I did give them the orders to have you bathed and dressed. I apologize that they went about it in such an unruly manner.” There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before the lady of the house stood to walk over to the large open space of the wall that acted as a window overlooking the grand entrance to the castle.

“When I was about your age, I came to Volantis for the first time as well. The conditions on which I was arriving were fairly similar to yours. I was to be wed to the eldest son of the house Maegyr, I was coming from Westeros, and I hadn’t a notion of what this foreign land would be like. I had just given birth to my eldest daughter, Cat, and on the voyage across the Narrow Sea, Ambrose told me all about Volantis. He began to teach me some basic Valyrian, he told me of the elephants, of the masquerades, and of the women and men who danced intricate steps to the harp. Yet none of that could change the fact that I missed my family and Winterfell with all my heart. I missed my sister and my brother, my heart aching to hold their daughters and sons, my nieces and nephews. It took time and a great amount of patience, but as I watched my children grow and thrive within the walls of Castle Maegyr, I came to accept and welcome Volantis as my new home. I know that you will come to love your life here, as I have, and if you ever find that you need a piece of Westeros, simply come to me, and I will show you how I managed the first year away from our homeland.” Lady Sansa then pat the third born Tully on the knee before standing and leaving the room.

Athena turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She was made up like one of the dolls that her father would bring her whenever he came back to Riverrun after he had gone away. She had rouged cheeks, jewels and flowers braided into her hair, her skin soft and glistening with oils and lotions. The lids of her brown eyes were painted gold and green, her lashes blackened and clumped. A single tear fell down her cheek before she stood and turned away from the mirror, unable to look upon the face of the foreign lady staring back at her.

Athena crossed to one of her trunks that had been placed at the foot of her bed and opened it, finding her fiddle. She picked up the instrument and the bow and began to play a song of longing and heartbreak, one written by the famed Prince Rhaegar Targaryen who had died at the hands of former King and Usurper Robert Baratheon. She thought of Riverrun, and found herself weeping silent tears of yearning and want for the days of her childhood and the flowing rivers of her home. She played the solemn and tragic tune for hours, her shoulders and arms aching. Yet she could not bring herself to stop until the Volantene moon shined like a pearl stitched into a blanket of stars, reflecting in her wash basin. She played the last note of the song for what might have been the hundredth time before falling to her knees. She felt a sob heaving in her chest, yet no tears were left to wet her eyes. She knelt there on the cold, mosaic floor for a few moments before she stood to place her fiddle back in the trunk. Yet when she stood, she nearly dropped the instrument, startled to see her betrothed standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded, suddenly feeling as though she had been exposed to the strange Volantene man that she was to marry.

“The first wedding ceremony is about to begin.” He said, his voice void of emotion or tone. He was standing still, his hands hanging idle at his sides.

“The _first_ wedding ceremony? What do you mean the _first?_ ” Athena demanded, anger, frustration, and utter confusion boiling in her gut.

“Come now. The _voktys_ do not like to be kept waiting.” Ned Maegyr extended his hand sharply, and Athena carefully placed her hand in his. As soon as their hands touched, he pulled her out of the room and down a hallway lit by scented candles and the occasional moonlight from a window.

When they reached the grand entrance to Castle Maegyr where they were to exit, Ned turned to his betrothed.

“I apologize for all of this. I know that it must be difficult for you, not knowing any of the customs. Just don’t do or say anything unless you’re repeating the words of the _voktys_. Just follow my lead, and you’ll be safe.” He spoke the words softly, a new sort of kindness emerging from Ned Maegyr that Athena had not seen before.

“What are the _voktys_?” She asked, still very much confused.

“The _voktys_ are the high priestesses of Jaesa hen Dīnilūks, the ancient Volantene goddess of marriage.” Athena furrowed her brow in confusion at Ned’s answer.

“But I thought that the Volantene people worshipped the Lord of Light, R’hllor?” Athena’s betrothed smirked lightly, a twinkle in his obsidian eyes.

“Westeros is not the only land that has old and new gods, Athena. The house of Maegyr has worshipped the ancient gods of Volantis for millennia. Come now. It’s almost time to begin.” Eddard took her by the hand and led her to an elephant. They both climbed the steps that led up to the elephant’s elaborate roofed saddle, and Ned helped Athena up onto the seat before seating himself right behind her.

“This begins the procession. They’re waiting for us at the temple of Dīnilūks. _Jikagon!_ ” (Go!) At the Volantene man’s command, the elephant began to walk, the wrought iron gates beset with emeralds, pearls, sapphires, and topaz opened. They were now entering the commonplace of the different castles within the black walls of Volantis. All of the children of noble birth stood outside the gates of their homes with their nurses, watching in awe as Athena Tully and Eddard Maegyr waved from atop the elephant. The third born Tully’s bracelets, arm bands, and rings glittered in the light of the moon as she waved with hesitation.

Then, all of a sudden, the elephant stopped. Athena peered over Ned’s shoulder to see why, when her breath was taken away.

The elephant had stopped so that the large gates, acting as the only entrance and exit to the black walls, could slowly open, and she saw for the first time the _true_ Volantis. When they had first arrived in the harbor, she had been taken in a windowless roofed saddle to Castle Maegyr, so she had not seen what it looked like outside of those obsidian walls. The cobblestone streets were covered with small wildflowers, commoners throwing the small and beautiful plants in the path of the betrothed highborns.

“The common-folk enjoy highborn weddings. Viewing such a spectacle gives them a taste of the finer things of life that they only may glimpse in times such as these.” Ned spoke into Athena’s ear, his lips brushing against her skin as he made sure that his betrothed heard him over the cheering of the common-folk.

Athena looked down at all of the peasants, and for a moment, she wished that she could be in their position, a nameless individual standing in a sea of bodies, throwing flowers and herbs onto the path of a pair of almost children, about to be thrown together in marriage.

After several more minutes of the procession, the elephant stopped in front of a pair of towering and ancient looking gates that were glittering with raw jewels and geodes.

“What is this place?” Athena whispered the question into Ned’s ear, remembering his instructors not to speak out of turn, unsure of whether or not they applied before the ceremony.

“This is the temple of Dīnilūks. This is where the ceremonies will be held. Come now, the _voktys_ are not patient women.” Ned dismounted the elephant onto the platform with ease before helping his betrothed down. They descended the steps of the platform before stepping onto a fine carpet that had been laid out on the ground. Athena stood before the gates, uncertain of what to do before two naked women approached the pair from the other side of the gates. Their bodies were painted with red and violet runes and designs, the dark hair on their heads hanging to their hips, braided with flowers and ribbons. The Volantene stepped forward and bowed his head at the women.

“ _Qilōni issi ao gō se jaesa?_ ” (Who comes before the goddess?) The two women spoke in perfect unison, their foreign tongues sounding almost like a bird’s shrill, sweet song to Athena’s ears.

“ _Eddard Maegyr, tresy hen Sansa, tresy hen Ambrose._ ” (Eddard Maegyr, son of Sansa, son of Ambrose.) He replied, his voice solemn as he gazed upon the two women.

“ _Skoro syt issi ao kesīr, Eddard Maegyr?_ ” (Why are you here, Eddard Maegyr?) The women asked, their voices still in perfect unison.

“ _Iksan kesīr naejot dīnagon Athena Tully, tala hen Roslyn, tala hen Edmure._ ” (I am here to wed Athena Tully, daughter of Roslyn, daughter of Edmure.) The women nodded before each grabbed hold of one side of the gate, walking backwards to open the doors to the betrothed.

The two stepped forward, Athena’s hands lightly grasping Eddard’s arm.

The ceremony was filled with foreign words, onlooking priestesses and members of the Maegyr family, and it ended with the drinking of golden wine. They made a procession back through the slums of Volantis and back into the confines of the black walls. When Athena went back into her chambers for the night, she stripped her clothes off and scrubbed herself with a wash cloth and soap until her skin was raw and red. She had just crawled into her bed for the night when there was a knocking at her door. She grabbed a robe of Lysene silk to cover her white shift and a candle before she opened the door. There stood Lady Celyna Maegyr, smiling and shivering.

“May I come in?” Celyna asked as Athena nodded and opened to door wide enough to let the young Maegyr inside.

“What do you need?” The Tully asked, placing the candle down on her bedside.

“I apologize if this is an odd request, but I used to share a bed with my elder sisters, Talisa and Cat, on nights after grand ceremonies, and I was wondering if you would like to take their place.” Lyna asked, obviously unsure of what to expect. Athena didn’t say a word. She simply crawled onto the far side of her bed, and pat the space next to her. Celyna climbed in and the two ladies fell into a slumber, each feeling a sisterly comfort that neither had felt since they had been at the Tourney at Storm’s End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I realize that I haven’t updated since like. March. And I have no excuse. I’ve just suffered from extreme writer’s block and incredible amounts of procrastination, but I hope to soon be back in the swing of things! I have lots of exciting plans for this story, so thank you for sticking with me on this lol. Thanks for reading and especially thank you if you left kudos or a nice comment!
> 
> Maggy


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